


Can we make it last

by Lluvia185



Series: Make me feel [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 3: Storm of Swords au, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Marriage, JaimSa Centric, Jaimsa, Menstruation, Non-Canon Relationship, Older Man/Younger Woman, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Rare Pairings, Sansa is underage, Sex Talk, Shameless Smut, Slice of Life, Underage Sex, mostly Sansa POV, season 03 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-02-27 04:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lluvia185/pseuds/Lluvia185
Summary: Sansa tries to make her best out of her forced marriage to Jaime Lannister.>>Second part of 'Make me feel' series.<<





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning on posting that this in a few days after I'll finish another chapter, but 8x04 has wrecked me.  
> I feel they're butchering my fav characters, so I decided to post this earlier to clean the air :D
> 
> Getting back to this. I didn't plan anything, I mean ANYTHING after the one-shot I wrote, but you gals were quite insistent on me writing more and there were some lovely comments too, so I'll try.  
> It will be shorter chapters than the one-shot (because 7k was crazy) and I don't know, is a bit different, but I hope you'll like.
> 
> Leave me a comment if you like it, I'll appreciate it a lot.
> 
> >> The fic picks it out from the morning after the wedding night. Also, in case the timeline is confusing, the red wedding hasn't happened yet. <<

 

Chapter 1

 

Sansa woke up the next morning at the sound of the door being closed. When she opened her eyes and searched the room, she realized Ser Jaime had dressed and gone.

She didn’t see him again until the evening. 

She proceeded with her day as she used to, though she noticed some changes. The gold cloaks they shadowed her had been replaced for Lannister’s soldiers, men who actually seemed to be in charge of protecting her instead of spying on her. She knew these men had fought against her brother and came with Lord Tywin to fight against Stannis Baratheon. What she didn’t know, was who had instructed them to replace the gold cloaks. Was her new good father or her husband? Was her value increased or decreased now that she bore the Lannister name?

She also noticed people, who had either ignored her presence or whispered viciously about her, greeting her in the halls and the gardens.

She ignored them in return.

The rest of her day went as usual until late afternoon. Lord Tyrion’s boy, squire? – Podrick – approached her and Shae while they were walking in the gardens. He informed her, his Lord had invited her and Ser Jaime to dine with him.

Sansa and Shae returned to her new chambers. She exchanged her mauve overdress for a bronze one, that was a bit less shabby than her others.

Since she had no allowance, her current wardrobe depended on the Queen’s whims or on Lord Baelish gifts. Her only new dress in quite some time had been her wedding dress, she wondered if she could alter it to wear it again.

Ser Jaime didn’t appear at any moment. So after some time waiting, Sansa, followed by her maid and guard, headed for the Master of Coin’s rooms.

When she came into Lord Tyrion’s rooms, she noticed Ser Jaime standing at her right talking with someone. However, it was Lord Tyrion the one who slipped from his chair and approached to greet her.

“Ah, my new good sister,” He smiled friendly at her, “we were waiting for you.”

“Lord Tyrion.” Sansa did a small curtsy in return.

“No, no, just Tyrion.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “You are now my favourite sister.”

The remark almost made Sansa smile, but she bit her lip to refrain herself.

“Sansa,” her husband called her, she turned to see him approached with whomever he had been talking with. “Let me introduce you to Lady Brienne of Tarth.”

The redhead tried to hide her surprise when she heard and realized the person next to Jaime was indeed a woman. She was not only dressed like Arya would have wanted – if their mother had ever permitted her – she was also the tallest woman she ever met. She had big, pretty blue eyes, but apart from that, she was, well, ill-favoured.

“My lady,” She greeted her and then quite suddenly bend the knee in front of her. “I pledged my sword to your mother, she requested me to find you and your sister and keep you safe.”

Sansa bristled, for some reason, the tall woman’s words irritated her. ‘ _Keep her safe_ ’ while she stood there, besides a Lannister. She must have noticed Sansa’s gaze wandering towards Jaime because she insisted.

“Lady Catelyn order me to deliver Ser Jaime in exchange for you and Lady Arya.”

Sansa stifled a bitter laugh at that.

“Well, that had worked wonderfully,” She quipped unable to stop herself. Tyrion snickered at her side.

“Maybe we should sit, eat, _drink_.” He intervened, taking Sansa’s hand and pulling her towards the round table where a plentiful display of food was placed. She let him herd her to a seat he pulled out for her, then he sat at her right side. Lady Brienne sat at her left but keeping some space between the two of them, finally, Jaime sat in front of Sansa.

The food was delicious, stuffed geese sauced with berries accompanied with cod cakes and oat bread with dates, washed down with Arbor and sweet plum wines. Sansa especially enjoyed the strawberry’s pies, though they still weren’t as tempting as lemon’s cake.

The conversation though, was mostly awkward, with only Tyrion trying and the rest of them politely answering his questions.

She entertained herself observing Jaime sitting in front of her. He was different around his brother, more real if that was possible. She noticed his clothes didn’t fit him, they hang loosely around his body. She didn’t, however, remember his wedding clothes being too big. But then they were new, and the ones he was wearing now were probably old ones, from before he was taken prisoner by Robb.

She recalled Jaime’s naked body the night before. He was thinner but still wiry and strong, it made her wonder what he must have looked like before his captivity.

“Jaime, maybe you should tell Sansa our news,” Tyrion announced at the end of their meal. He intruded her thoughts about Jaime’s body, which made her cheeks burn, and she needed a moment to fully understood what he had said.

“Sorry,” She apologized after taking a sip of her Arbor, “What news?”

“I–we,” Jaime included Tyrion with a gesture, “have talked to our father today. He had agreed for us to leave for Casterly Rock.”

Sansa’s heart sped up, her blood was pumping in her ears and she suddenly felt dizzy.

“When?” she whispered in a trembling voice.

“Ten, twelve days at most.” Jaime calculated. “We've already sent a raven to the Rock to alert the servants of our arrival.”

“Be–before Jof–…Before the King’s wedding?” She stammered. She felt light as a feather, swirling in the wind until the whole room was spinning.

“The royal wedding is still more than a moon away,” Tyrion answered her, he patted her hand delicately, “There is no need for you to wait so long. Father understands how newlyweds need _privacy_.”

Sansa didn’t know if that last part was a veiled admonition or if it had been the pretext they told Lord Tywin, and she really didn’t care. Twelve days, twelve days and she would be out of this horrifying golden cage. She didn’t even care she might land in a different prison, Cersei wouldn’t be her jailor nor Joffrey her tortured.

It was the closest she’d been to safety since before her father died.

She snatched Jaime’s hand over the table, gripping it lightly and bent her body forward.

“Thank you.” She revered him, her voice thick with emotion.

He stared at her shocked. Sansa noticed Brienne looking away in embarrassment and Tyrion playing with his dessert, but she ignored them. If Jaime would have been by her side, she might have even kissed his hand in gratitude. He swallowed and nodded stiffly, squeezing her fingers back.

“Well,” Tyrion cleared his throat and Sansa freed Jaime’s hand. “Then you should start packing. Your things are going to be ship away in about ten days and then you all will ride away the next morning.”

“All?” She asked, finishing her pie.

“Brienne and… um, Podrick are coming with us.” Jaime explained to her, Sansa looked at the blonde woman and nodded in understanding.

“Why are our things being shipped but not us?” She inquired again.

“You were supposed to be shipped too,” Tyrion elaborated, “But there have been reports of the iron born’s fleet near to Lannisport. Jaime thought better to try the Gold road.”

“Is the Gold road safe, then?” She pressed. Tyrion made a face.

“Not entirely.” Jaime answered for him.

“If we were to be attacked,” Brienne supplied, “you’d be safer on land than sea, my lady.”

No one said if it would be because she might be able to run away, or because maybe it would be an attack by a northerner’s ranging party, but Sansa nodded accepting the explanation anyway.

She retired to her chambers sometime after, accompanied by Brienne who insisted, she would now be in her personal guard. She thought about waiting up for Jaime but was too tired and decided against it.

 

 

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa makes preparations to leave King's Landing.

 

The next morning, Sansa noticed Jaime had never come to bed and felt a pang of anxiety. However, she was so fully occupied during the day making arrangements for their departure, that she didn’t think about it again until that same night.

Aware of her marital duties and slightly worried of Jaime backing out on his promise, she resolved to stay up for him.

She got into her nightgown, sat on a chair by the balcony and occupy her time mending one of her dresses. When she finished it an hour later, she retired to bed with a book of her favourite’s stories.

She fell asleep at some point and he never came.

 

* * *

  

The first lights woke her up, she was still half sat on the bed and her neck was aching dreadfully.

She was all alone.

Her heart jumped to her throat at the realisation that Jaime hadn’t come to bed at all.

What if he had backed out about the whole thing? What if he had come back to Cersei?

She could feel the freedom she had almost tasted, seep through her fingers.

Had she done something to him? Or hadn’t? Did she fail her wife duties without even know?

It wasn’t like she could ask her mother or any other female relative about it, nor even a trusted friend.

She could go to Margery, but her marriage to Renly had never been consummated after all. Her septa had been killed along with her father, Jaime’s female relatives were out of the question. Neither could she ask Shae about this, since it entailed as much as her position as a lady than as a wife, and Lady Brienne was a maiden.

Sansa picked anxiously at her honied porridge and grapes as she thought about it. She even considered talking to Tyrion, knowing how ridicule it would be for both of them.

Until it struck her.

She dressed promptly and went out to the gardens escorted by Brienne and Shae, no Lannister guard that morning. She walked through the bushes and flowers the entire morning while Brienne and Shae exchanged inquisitive gazes. She finally found her target about to retire to eat her midday meal.

“Lady Olenna,” Sansa greeted her, “I wonder if we may have a word… in private.”

The older woman examined her with a critical eye, looked over her companions and finally nodded.

“Very well child,” She answered, “But I was about to eat, so you have to share my meal.”

Sansa nodded and Lady Olenna took her arm to walk together. Sansa sent Shae away while Brienne stood guard at some distance from where they ate their meal, perceiving their need for privacy.

Their conversation was embarrassing, enlightening and informative all in one. The elderly lady had given her a lot to think about.

Sansa came back to her chambers followed by Brienne. Shae was there – not bothering on hiding her resentment of having been dismissed – packing her things. There wasn’t much to pack, anyway, all her things would fit in a small, single trunk. Sansa stroked the fabric of the dress she had been mending last night, now laying on her bed. _Dull_ , indeed, she thought, recalling Lady Olenna’s words.

 

* * *

  

_“Well, you’re not going to charm any husband dressed like this.” Lady Olenna chastised her with her unforgivable eyes._

_“Are you suggesting I should dress to please my husband?” Sansa asked, troubled by the Lady’s words._

_“Puff,” She huffed, “What a ridiculous notion!” The elder women chewed a green bean before developing her argument. “But one doesn’t dress in the same manner for riding than for a dinner with guesses.”_

_“No, I guess not.” Sansa agreed._

_“Of course, not.” She shook her head while spreading garlic cheese over a toast. “You won’t beguile any man with these dull, grey dresses you wear.”_

_“My mother dresses in a similar style,” Sansa defended herself._

_“Ned Stark wasn’t Jaime Lannister,” Lady Olenna quarrelled, “and even him strayed from the marriage’s bed.”_

 

* * *

 

Sansa hadn’t been able to defend her father in that regard, she remembered while staring at her dresses. So, she needed new clothes, it’s not like she didn’t know it already, the problem was she had no idea who to ask. Maybe Jaime, but she hadn’t laid eyes on him for two days, probably Lord Tywin, but she didn’t find herself able to ask him such a thing, or anything if she was truthful.

That left her only Tyrion. He might not be able to help her, but if so, she wouldn’t be ashamed.

She spoke with her good-brother that same afternoon, who insisted on leaving all in his hands.

The following morning, several drapers, tailors and dressmakers were waiting for her in Tyrion’s apartments, who left her with Shae to their own devices.

Sansa ordered them a handful of new dresses but insisted their priority was a travelling outfit and the altering of her wedding dress. She also called Jaime’s squire or servant – she really didn’t know his position – and instructed the man to order whatever new clothes Jaime may need, which were quite a few. She helped the man choose the fabrics for his master and send him away, to have her own measures taken.

 

She expended the afternoon making enquires for her new chambermaids.

Both Shae and Brella had chosen to stay in King’s Landing, rather than continue in her service in Casterly Rock.

Why? Sansa had no clue. She couldn’t fathom why someone would willingly stay in a viper nest like King’s Landing.

Lord Tyrion suggested she could hire any new servants from Lannisport, once she arrived at the Rock. Sansa explained him, she would need at least one maid to travel with her, but – and she kept that to herself – she wanted someone loyal to her or at least someone who wouldn’t hate her or despise her for her family name. She doubted, she would find such a person in the country where her brother’s army had been fighting.

Not that finding that someone was probing to be easy in King’s Landing.

After a few days meeting with servants, her only option was a girl slightly older than Sansa, that worked for house Yarwyck as a laundress and was trying to improve her station. She was starting to believe she would have to follow Tyrion’s suggestion and search someone else after she arrived at Casterly Rock, when Naeyah appeared.

She was a tall girl of four and ten, with beautiful cinnamon skin and big chestnut eyes. Her mouth was a bit large for her face, but her smile was timid and kind. Naeyah had been born in the Summer Isles of an unknown dornish’s father. A few moons before, she had been captured by slavers but had managed to escape them when they docked at King’s Landing to replenish water.

Sansa and Brienne shared a concerned glance at her story, before turning back at the girl, dressed in a bizarre combination of westerosi and foreign styles.

Naeyah spoke the Common Tongue with a heavy liquid accent and can read and write it well enough. She carried a small piece of fabric she had embroidered with great ability and was accustomed to hard work since she had been employed as a washerwoman after she had run away from the slavers.

Sansa took her in at the spot and send her to Brella, so she could start learning her duties.

 

* * *

 

The day she took on her new maid, six days had passed from her wedding.

She still hadn’t laid eyes on her husband since. Well, she had seen him from afar. One morning, while walking through the gardens, Brienne pointed at him, he and another man were training at a hidden nook of the Red Keep. But apart from that, nothing, not even a greeting in the halls.

It made Sansa stay in a continuous state of anxiety, wondering when her sand castle would fall apart.

It couldn’t keep her up that night though, she had an appointment in the morning for a fitting and she was exhausted. So, she didn’t even try to stay up for an improbable Jaime’s apparition.

Hours later, however, she startled awake at a soft metal sound. Her heart started pounding madly in her chest while her eyes searched the room fearfully.

In her panic state, it took her a moment to realise the man entering the room and taking his clothes off in the dark was Jaime. Sansa didn’t say anything and when he approached the bed, she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. He didn’t try to wake her up. He just slipped under the covers and settled in the bed, facing away from her. She re-opened her eyes and stared at his back, wondering if this was the first night he did it, or if he had been slipping in their chambers every other night.

When Sansa woke up alone in the morning, she questioned herself if she had dreamt it all.

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't a lot happening in this chapter and yet I wanted to set somethings that will have their repercursions later, but I didn't want to drag their time in KL either, so it feels a little messy?  
> What do you think about Olenna's conversation? I wanted to write more, but I didn't feel able to make her justice (she is so savage!) so I only added that bit, but her advices will keep appearing.
> 
> Anyway KL's departure will be next chapter, ha!
> 
> PD. Are you all pretending season 8 didn't happen? I am.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jaime leave King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had planned to post this chapter last week but I didn't finish it until Saturday. And yesterday I did the banner thingy.  
> There were going to happen more things in this chapter but the point where I finished it felt right.  
> There are a few references to King's Landing Riot, but the one from the books more than from the show. In the books they were riding and not walking - which make much more sense - and there was no mention of a rape attempt to Sansa. I used some plans of KL and the Red Keep to write this chapter, but I don't know how accurate it will be. The dress I describe for Sansa is inspired by the one she wore in season 4 that look similar to Littlefinger's but without the weird sleeves.
> 
> I think the next chapter will be up in 2 weeks. I also want to thank you all because the first part of this series is now my second most read fic in AO3 and my first most kudowy? kudowed? Liked fic.
> 
> Leave me a comment so I know what you think :)

# 

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa didn’t catch Jaime sneaking into their rooms again. One morning she thought the other side of the bed was still warm when she woke up, but it could be her mind playing tricks.

And so, the days quickly passed.

The morning they were supposed to depart, she was so agitated she couldn’t take a bite. She knew she should, seeing that she would be riding the whole day, but her throat was so close that at times she couldn’t even breath.

Brella and Naeyah helped into her travelling attire while Shae kept fussing about the food she wasn’t eating. The clothes felt foreign to Sansa, she hadn’t put on ridding breaches since she left The North and the last time she had been on a horse – she suppressed a shiver – she preferred not to think about that day.

She put on sturdy new riding boots, a practical midnight blue dress and an iron-grey overcoat. Both the dress and the coat fell just below her knees, so she could ride comfortably astride. Brella combed her hair into a plain braid while Naeyah revised the minimal baggage they were going to travel with, before carrying it out.

Sansa dismissed Brella wishing her good fortune in her future and the girl walked out off the door, leaving her alone with Shae. The redhead turned to the maid and grabbed her hand.

“Thank you,” She declared emotionally.

“I’ve done nothing,” Shae refused.

“You’ve tried.” Sansa squeezed her hand and the brunette nodded with acceptance.

The door opened to reveal Lady Brienne in full armour.

“My lady.” The tall woman addressed her, “It’s time.”

“Goodbye, Shae.” She said letting her hand go, then marched out of the door with Brienne following her.

 

* * *

 

The Red Keep’s outer yard was busy, although there weren’t that many people. She spotted Ser Jaime talking to Lord Tyrion near the horses, standing at the bottom of the stairs were Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna.

Sansa went down the steps and approached the two women.

“Dear Sansa,” Lady Margaery greeted her, grabbing both of her hands. “I can’t believe you won’t be at my wedding. I’m desolated.”

The redhead tried to maintain an unperturbed face. She couldn’t think of many places she wanted to be less than at that wedding. But then, she noticed the glint at Margaery’s eyes and she realized it was a performance.

After all, one can’t ever be too careful of what to say in this place.

“I’m disappointed myself too, Lady Margaery,” Sansa smiled slowly and at ease, “for what can be more wonderful than attend to a royal wedding? But alas, my husband is eager to take his legitimate place at Casterly Rock.”

“Of course, we’re but our husbands’ humble servants after all.” Margaery smiled playfully in return.

“Indeed,” Sansa nodded.

The older girl quickly and unexpectedly stopped the charade and hugged her.

“Good luck, my friend,” Margaery whispered into her ear, Sansa tightened her arms around her, a surge of emotion misting over her eyes.

“Thank you,” She hushed back sincerely, “and take _care_.”

Their hug lasted a few more seconds, enough for both to school their faces into their own masks. They smiled at each other after they broke their embrace. Sansa gave her a short nod before turning to Lady Olenna. The older woman took one of her hands and stare intently at her.

“Don’t forget what we talk about it,” Lady Olenna reminded her. “Observe, learn, and you will be fine.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Sansa gave her a small bow in appreciation.

She turned around at the sound of steps at her back, to find Tyrion approaching her.

“My lady,” He bowed his head and she greeted him back in the same manner. Lady Margaery and Lady Olenna stepped back to give them some privacy. Tyrion didn’t say anything else, instead, studied her face longer than was polite until she felt uncomfortable under his sharp gaze.

“Lord Tyrion?” She finally called him out. He blinked back to the present, searched her blue eyes and smiled knowingly.

“You know, I thought your marriage to Jaime was ill-advised.” He confessed, “But after deep consideration, I realized you two are more alike than anyone – including yourselves – would think.”

Sansa arched her eyebrows, questioning her good brother words. ‘ _How in any God’s name could she had anything in common with the Kingslayer?_ ’

“I don’t know you that well, my lady,” He took her hand in his and looked fixedly at her eyes, “But I knew you were a young girl with big dreams crushed by reality’s viciousness. My brother too was like that once.”

Sansa was tempted to contradict him, but her, by now ingrained self-preservation, refrained her.

“If you say so, my lord.” She answered him aloof. He squeezed her hand to catch her attention.

“I _know_ so.” He insisted, “If you _care_ ,” the intonation a warning “about your marriage, I’d recommend you, trying to know my brother. He might surprise you.”

Sansa frowned, disgruntled by why Lord Tyrion was so adamant about it but ended nodding impatiently. He nodded once and let go off her hand.

 

The sound of the Throne Romm's gates opening and numerous steps echoing made everyone stopped abruptly and turn around. Lustrous golden armours shined under the sun.

Sansa tensed besides Tyrion, every metal sound of the synchronized steps going down the stone stairs, made her heartbeat speed more and more until she could barely hear anything but her own blood pumping in her temples.

Tyrion looked sidewise at Jaime who shrugged almost imperceptible, he looked back at the King’s guards and saw Joffrey’s cruel smile, their father walking behind him. He turned his head up to the redhead beside him, her face suddenly drained out of colour, her hands closing into fists to hide the tremors going through her body, and Tyrion knew the little shit wasn’t there on behave of any of his uncles – for whom he never cared a fuck about, anyway – but for his plaything.

Though Tyrion had had the privilege of witnessed Sansa’s brave stoicism before, he still marvelled at it when Meryn Trant – who stepped aside to leave way for Joffrey – had the insolence of smile at her. The only thing that betrayed her stony face for the briefest of moments was when Jaime appeared at her right side, placing his left hand on the small of her back. She shied away from the contact until she realized it was her husband.

“My lady,” The little shit addressed her, approaching them with his usual arrogance. “I didn’t realize you were leaving the city.”

Sansa was tempted to look at Jaime but refrained herself, she knew better by now. Joffrey enjoyed her fear but got contradicted or bored if he didn’t get it, then he would hit her, but she knew – _hoped_ – he wouldn’t dare to strike her in front of Ser Jaime and Lord Tywin.

“My lord husband thought it was best, your Grace,” She courtesy stiffly.

“I doubt it. He is not much of a thinker,” Joffrey scorned him, “The sword was the only thing he was good at, and now he can’t even hold one. You may have gotten a better deal if you have wed my other uncle” He laughed viciously, “You would have made such a pair.”

For a fleeting moment, Sansa wondered if Joffrey ever considered the rumours about his parentage to be true. If he didn’t believe them or chose not to.

She saw Lord Tywin at Joffrey’s back tightening his jaw with anger, it was bad enough that the King was disrespecting his uncles, but on top of it, he was doing it in front of a small crowd. She shouldn’t be surprised, and yet she couldn’t understand how he was able to address his own family in such a way.

Just for an instant, Jon Snow’s image appeared in her mind eye and she felt ashamed of herself.

Ser Jaime’s hand stiffened against her back and Lord Tyrion bristled. Sansa knew nothing good would come if either of them answered Joffrey, and she was too close from getting away to lose it now.

Ladies didn’t have swords, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have any weapons. She had learnt it the bad way, but she wouldn’t forget.

“Either of your uncles would have been the most excellent match for a daughter’s traitor like me, your Grace,” Sansa stated with her most humble voice. Joffrey’s smile wavered, she saw the anger in his eyes and how he bristled to keep it down. She fought to suppress a smile of her own.

“That’s true,” He conceded, suddenly pretending to be bored, “You didn’t deserve a Lannister, no matter how disfigured they are.”

“I’m very fortunate, your Grace.” She curtsy.

Joffrey ignored her and walked towards Margaery and her grandmother. Lord Tywin approached Ser Jaime while Tyrion accompanied her towards the horses. Naeyah was waiting by a magnificent grey mare with white legs and black mane. Podrick was beside her maid, sneaking looks at her and getting red cheeks, whenever she smiled back.

Podrick was about to help her onto her horse when Joffrey’s voice stopped them.

“Uncle!” He barked. Everybody turned around to look at the King. “You ought to help your wife on her horse.”

Jaime tensed his jaw, nodded and said something Sansa wasn’t able to hear from where she was. He walked towards her with a confident stride. She wondered how they were going to make it work with just one hand, to not be embarrassed in front of everyone, which no doubt, was Joffrey’s intention.

He approached the mare and stood between the saddle and the neck. He, as the rest of the soldiers was clad in full Lannister armour, the lion of his breastplate shone under the sun.

“Grab the bridle, Podrick,” He instructed, the younger man run to obey him. Jaime presented his right arm, the golden hand covered by a black glove. “Take my arm to propel yourself onto the saddle.”

She eyed his arm and then his face hesitantly, she wasn’t that good at riding and getting onto the horse by herself, was something she had never done before.

“I don’t think I can,” She whispered to him.

“How much do you want to leave the city?” He asked her exasperated, then sighed “I won’t let you fall.”

She nodded still cautious but took his arm. He instructed her to grab the saddle with the other hand. She placed her right foot into the stirrup and tried her position a bit, flexing her knee before trying for good. She felt his hand under her left foot the moment she pushed herself up. She did her best to ignore Joffrey’s snickers until she fell over the saddle, ungracefully but safe.

She gave Jaime a tight smile once she settled on the horse, he nodded sharply and left. Podrick handed her the reins and Naeyah adjusted her coat and dress, before turning to her own horse.

Brienne appeared at her right side, already mounted on a horse that looked small under the huge woman. There were voices and movement, the horses’ hooves and the soldier’s armours made a lot of noise, but Sansa’s vision was tunnelled towards the gates, till the point everything else turned into white noise.

The gates opened, and her heart fluttered in response. They were six horsemen before her and eight behind her, including Jaime who was just before her on a beautiful white steed. The retinue began to move, and Sansa’s heart leapt to her throat.

The horses advanced, passing slowly through the gates. When Sansa’s mare reached them, she eyed them, fearing the bronze doors would be slammed close before she passed them.

She held her breath, yet nothing happened, her mare went through them like it meant nothing. Sansa let out a sigh of relief the moment she found herself on the curvy route that descended from the Red Keep to the city beneath.

The entourage went down Aegon’s hill with the same slow pace. Sansa’s respite only lasted until they reached the Street of Seeds.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by people.

The small folk came out of their houses to see them, people stopped working to look at them, small flocks of children run around them, amazed by the armours and the horses.

Panic crept up her chest when she saw hands came close to touch her mare, her throat closed, and she couldn’t breathe. She saw Lady Brienne’s concerned face, she knew she was asking her something, but it was like her voice came from underwater. Ser Jaime turned on his horse, and his face showed some alarm. He scanned the surroundings and Sansa feared he wanted to stop there, but he shook his head, turned around and addressed Brienne.

Sansa couldn’t understand everything he said, except that they wouldn’t stop until they were outside the city. She felt a twinge of relief through the mist of her fear. She decided to focus on a tiny speck of lint on Jaime’s red cape, while they navigate to the city’s streets.

She noticed they reached the end of the street only because suddenly there was more space. The retinue turned left after passing Visenya’s Hill, entering a narrow street once again.

Sansa left a shaky breath when after a few long minutes, she catched sight of the Lion Gate. The heavy weight upon her chest lessen more and more the closer they got to the gates, till the point a bubbly, anxious giggle escaped her throat when she finally reached them. She crossed the gates spurring on her horse, turned back once she passed through them, a new burst of giggles leaving her mouth.

By the Old Gods, she was finally out.

She was out.

 

 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While travelling to Casterly Rock Sansa begins to contemplate her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers!
> 
> It took me a few days more than I thought, but I had some technical difficulties at home, very time-consuming.  
> I had to restructure the chapter because I have a conversation wrote for a future chapter that I suddenly realized needed some background, but I also didn't want to drag the travel chapter so it took a little time to write it all. I also had troubles writing about Casterly Rock because is a weird af castle.  
> There is a tiny interaction between Sansa and Jaime at the end of the chapter. I know is not much but Sansa is figuring things out and Jaime is dealing with other things we still don't know ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

* * *

 

 

The retinue rode all day. They stopped once during the morning and once in the afternoon to rest.

At midday they paused by a creek, Podrick and Naeyah set a cloth under a chestnut’s shadow to gather an unlikely group made up by Ser Jaime, the soldier’s captain, Lady Brienne and herself. They ate cold meat, bread and watered wine in awkward silence.

They reached an Inn when the sun was starting to set. By then, she was so tired and sore, that she fell asleep the moment her head touched the not so comfortable wool’s bed she was showed to by their innkeeper. She was awoken at some point later by her handmaid, who helped her to undress and supplied her with a bowl of hot stew.

She was asleep again before the girl finished combing her hair.

 

She didn’t wake up until Naeyah shook her at the first sun rays, but she didn’t feel much rested, her whole body still sore from the previous day.

Sansa had never ridden like this, the only other long trip she had done was when they travelled to King’s Landing. She had expended most of it in Cersei’s wheelhouse and the few times she had ridden, the pace had been significantly slower than the one they had the previous day. She supposed this speed was more suited for a regiment than for a lady, but of course, the country was at war.

The next three days passed in the same fashion. They rode all day and stopped at an Inn for a hot supper and semi-comfortable bed. By the fourth night, her muscles ached so painfully she had spams on her legs. Her handmaid had to ask the innkeeper to draw a warm bath with whatever means they had. As a result, Sansa ended in the smallest bathtub she had ever been, to the point it looked more like a barrel than a tub. But the hot water helped greatly, and a warm cup of honeyed wine put her to sleep.

She woke up an hour or so before the sunrise, she felt slightly nauseous, the pain in her muscles dulled by cramps in her lower belly. She sat up on the bed and removed the covers to find a spot of blood on the bed.

Her moonblood.

She touched the stain, not dry yet. She had completely forgotten it.

Sansa rubbed her fingers reddened by the blood, it meant something different now. She wasn’t with child. She wasn’t carrying the Lannister’s heir.

She got up in a trance, approached Naeyah’s cot as quietly as she could, trying not to wake up Brienne, who was sleeping on a third cot. The young maid opened her eyes before Sansa could touch her as if she had sensed her presence.

“My lady? Is something wrong?” Naeyah asked sitting up on her bed, Sansa shook her head and the younger girl eased up.

“No, but I…, my moonblood has come.” Sansa whispered.

“Oh… Oh!” The girl nodded and got out of her bed. She shuffled around one of the bags until she found the necessary supplies and gave them to Sansa. “I can brew some willow bark with your tea, my lady.”

“That would be nice,” She answered absent-mindedly while she fixed herself, “Take a few coppers from my purse for waking up the kitchen maid early.”

Naeyah curtsy and quietly left the room. Sansa took her stockings and ridding breaches and put them on, although she couldn’t properly lace them by herself.

She sat on the maid’s cot near a small window and peak out, the sky was starting to lighten from black to purple. She started to rub her lower belly in an attempt to soothe the pain.

After Tyrion and Jaime informed her, they were going to leave King’s Landing, her mind had been so fully occupied with the notion of escaping that she hadn’t fully considered what it entailed. When she had agreed to the bedding during her wedding night, she couldn’t imagine being out of the capital only a few weeks later. But of course, she suspected it had been correlated, if the marriage hadn’t been consummated, she wouldn’t have left King’s Landing. Yet, she had failed to consider what would have happened next.

Did it change something or nothing at all?

If she asked Brienne to help her escape, would she agree to it? And if she did, would they manage to run away from the soldiers? Would she be able to re-join her mother, to reach Robb at Riverrun?

There was nothing she wanted more than to hug her mother again.

Sansa tried to rub away a throbbing new cramp. She wasn’t with child, but she had been wedded _and_ bedded, and by the enemy at that. She was still a Stark though, and for the time being, Robb’s heir, but that could change quite fast. Even if Robb fathered a girl, Sansa would be displaced in the North’s line of succession by the baby. And what was worse, they may need Sansa to make alliances or atonement, even if Robb and mother wouldn’t want to.

Robb had been forced to agree into a marriage alliance with House Frey and then he had broken his promise. If their army was indeed retreating North, they would need to make amends with the Frey’s and they wouldn’t sell themselves cheap. They might even overlook the fact that she wasn’t a maiden anymore.

Sansa tried to suppress a shiver, she hadn’t escaped Joffrey and all King’s Landing’s horrors to end up in a Frey’s bed. Much less now that she knew the full extension of what it involved.

But even if it wasn’t the Frey’s, it could be someone else. It could be to secure the cunning Boltons, her father never fully trusted, or to gain back the Karstarks.

However, if she didn’t join her family… if she stayed with Ser Jaime and if he ever shared a bed with her again, eventually she would end up with child. A child that would tie her forever with Cersei and Joffrey.

Sansa embraced her legs defeated, hid her face against her knees and cry as silently as she could.

How could she make such an impossible choice?

The room’s door opened slowly, Brienne raised her head from her coat, opened her eyes and find Naeyah going in with a steaming cup, so she closed her eyes and turned around on her bed. Sansa rubbed her face quickly, brushing her tears away, her maid sat beside her handing the cup to her.

“The kitchen maid had some ginger tea,” Naeyah explained her in a whisper. “I added the willow bark and a spoon of honey for your sweet tooth, my lady.”

“Thank you, Naeyah.” Sansa answered weakly, sipping the hot tea.

“It usually takes a little time, my lady,” the maid said as if she was trying to comfort her “no need to be sad.”

“What takes a little time?” The redhead frowned, confused.

“For the seed to take root, my lady.” Naeyah smiled kindly. Sansa's cheeks reddened and she tried to hide her eyes.

“Oh! I wasn’t…it isn’t…” She stammered.

“I’ve heard westerosi ladies want to have a lot of babies.” Her handmaid blurted too frankly.

“It’s our duty.” Sansa stated mechanically. The foreign girl nodded in understanding.

“Is it the lords’ duty too, then?” She insisted on, Sansa sipped her tea mulling over the answer.

“It’s different… they need sons, but…but…” Sansa trailed off, she didn’t know how to explain Naeyah that the burden of it wasn’t on them, but on their wives.

“If your husband needs sons,” The younger girl continued, “shouldn’t he honour the goddess of love more perseveringly?”

“We don’t worship such a goddess in Westeros.” Sansa frowned. Naeyah shook her head.

“I meant… sharing your bed?” She replied unsure of the terminology, Sansa reddened again, then shrugged her shoulders trying to be dismissive. However, the maid looked at her inquisitive.

“Maybe… maybe your husband prefers the men’s company?” Naeyah wondered out loud, Sansa didn’t fully understand her until she heard a queer noise coming from Lady Brienne’s bed, then she blushed furiously.

“No!” She rebuffed a bit louder than she intended, “No, he is not… that’s not…” She added more quietly, Naeyah was staring at her so attentively that Sansa felt compelled to elaborate on it. “He used to… to have a… a lover.”

“Does he keep her still?” Her maid inquired. Sansa shook her head.

“He promised me not to go back to her.” She whispered back, deliberately omitting his condition for the agreement.

“Mayhap my lady should be the one to go after her husband.” Naeyah suggested without a trace of mockery.

 _‘I don’t know how to do that,’_ Sansa mused to herself finishing her tea, _‘I don’t even know if I want to.’_

Her maid got up, dressed quickly and then turned to her to help her finish dressing. None of them said anything else about the matter, but the girl’s words stayed with Sansa all day.

 

* * *

 

After five days on the road, the splendour of the entourage had diminished, even Ser Jaime’s fine red cape had remnants of dust at its ends his servant hadn’t been able to remove. Sansa stared at Jaime’s back all day, her mind preoccupied with a choice she didn’t know how to make.

She would be a pawn to someone no matter what path she picked.

_‘Family, duty, honour.’_

She will always be a Stark and a Tully, nothing will ever change that, but duty, honour? Where hers must lay?

In the eyes of the Seven, she was Jaime’s Lannister wife, but she knew Robb would annul it with the stroke of a quill.

Mayhap, it shouldn’t matter who thought she was Ser Jaime’s wife or not, but instead if she considered herself as his wife.

She hadn’t wanted to be wedded to the Kingslayer, she could have taken Jaime’s offer and left it unconsummated, but she didn’t, she wanted it done and over it. And she had liked it, she had found an unexpected pleasure she didn’t even know it existed. If she ran away from him, would she find it again? Would another man give her such joy?

 _‘A good and honourable man’_ that was what her father had wanted for her. _‘A handsome chivalrous prince’_ was what she had wanted.

She no longer believed in chivalry, she had seen too much cruelty from knights to believe in it, and her handsome prince had turned to be a vicious monster. Moreover, she doubted the existence of good and honourable men. Her father had been good and even him had stained his honour, same had Robb.

Ser Jaime wasn’t a prince, but he was very handsome, she didn’t doubt he could be cruel, but he didn’t appear to revel on it. He was as far from honourable as a man could get, a King’s Guard who slew his King, yet he had made a promise to her and he had honoured it.

She had made him a promise in return.

_‘I’ll learn how to please you.’_

Her mother’s House put honour last, her father had always put it first, but he had declared himself a traitor for her and Arya. Jaime had done far worse for Cersei, would he do it for Sansa? If he put a baby in her, would he do it for their child? And if he had to choose between their child and Cersei, who would he choose?

And her? Who should she choose?

 

* * *

 

Their journey lasted five more days which passed in a similar way. By the end of it, Sansa was tired of riding, of having dubious quality stews for supper and cold meat at midday, she longed for a featherbed and a proper bath. And yet she was no closer to making a decision. She’ll fight for her family no matter what, but should she stay with Jaime and extend said family or try to escape to join her mother and brother?

Every night she believed to have made a choice, only to doubt at it the next morning.

The previous night, Ser Jaime had informed her during their supper, that they would arrive at Casterly Rock the next day. Their last inn had higher standings – probably because it was so close to the Lannister’s seat – hence it had a bathhouse. I was very small, but comfortable enough for Sansa to have a proper bath, she would arrive at the Rock looking like the lady she was.

That morning she put on her second ridding attire, she had kept it for this exact event. It had the same style as the one she had worn during the whole journey, except the breaches were less comfortable and more proper; the dress was dark red, closer to mud red Tully’s than the Lannister’s, the collar, shoulders and cuffs were decorated with blue liverworts and white lady’s lace’s flowers. Instead of the practical coat she had been wearing, she put on a light summer cloak and instructed Naeyah to improve her simple riding’s hairstyle by adding a crown braid at the top of her head.

Sansa knew her efforts panned out when Ser Jaime did a double take at her as she approached her grey mare that morning.

One of the soldiers had already left when the retinue departed from the inn, to announce their arrival at Casterly Rock. About an hour into their journey, a massive stone hill began to loom over the horizon, shortly after it, Sansa started to smell the sea. The hill became bigger and clearer the closer they got. At midmorning they made their usual stop to rest. Sansa got off her mare to contemplate the view, with her hand over her eyes she tried to make out the top of the rock. The metallic sound of armour made her turn to find Jamie walking towards her.

“That is, isn’t it?” She addressed him, turning back to the view of the Rock.

“Mm-mm.” He nodded, walking behind her until she could feel him hovering over her shoulder. His left hand pointed at the top of the hill, where a tiny tower could be seen. “That’s one of the watchtowers on the top,” His index drifted down, following the outline of the hill into the land. “There’s the entrance, is wide enough for twenty riders.”

Sansa nodded slowly, every time Jaime spoke she felt his breath against her neck, just below her ear, and every time it sent shivers down her spine. It didn’t help that her mind conjured how he had held her in a similar position during their wedding night.

Like a ghost on her skin, she recalled the memory of his mouth licking her neck and his hand fondling her left breast. It made her breasts felt full and sensitive and it sprang an unfamiliar ache between her legs.

She turned her face to him feeling dizzy. Jaime turned too, his green eyes went from soft and smiling to surprised, then desiring and finally resolved.

He closed the almost non-existence space and lighter than air, he kissed the corner of her mouth, barely a caress. Sansa closed her eyes, it was not near enough and too much at the same time, she felt him left and she released a shaky breath she didn’t know was holding.

 

* * *

 

 They resume the journey shortly after that, just before midday they passed beside Lannisport leaving it at their left. Although they didn’t cross through, Sansa was able to see it from the road. It was smaller than King’s Landing, with tall colourful houses clustered over two small stone hills that form a valley of sorts in the middle of it. The harbour extended directly from the rocks into the sea. There were a few Lannister’s ships docked, but most of them where merchant ships or smaller fishing boats.

As they passed by the city, the entourage had to slow down its pace due to the appearance of other travellers. They crossed one on horseback, a cart of grain pulled by two oxen, and some donkeys, but mostly there were a lot of workers and peasants walking towards Lannisport. They all pointed at the soldier’s red cloaks, some cheered, others gossiped and the ones who recognized Ser Jaime bowed. Sansa could see at the corner of her eyes some fingers pointed at her and tried to keep her focus on the road. She didn’t know if any of them knew who she was, but she doubted any of them harbour any love for her if they knew.

About a mile after the city, they finally reached a bridge that led them to the Castle entrance, a huge cavern that seemed ready to swallow them whole. Inside there was a port with a few ships docked, they passed by and instead led their horses up to a hard curved slope. They ascended for some time until they reached a new cavern, it was opened to the outside, archways, buildings and stairs had been built against and within the stone. They dismounted there, stable boys appeared from one of the buildings to help her and took her mare. Jaime approached her and offered his left hand, she took it with only a small vacillation. Two of the soldiers positioned before them, Ser Jaime guided her through one archway around the massive hill until they reach another open space. The soldiers move away to let them pass, the Castle's household was fully gathered in front of them, from the last scullion to the steward.

Jaime guided her closer to them, Sansa kept their ladylike façade, but her heart was beating like a hummingbird. They stopped in front of the Maester and another man in a green tunic and the whole crowd curtsy to them.

“Welcome back, Ser Jaime,” The man in green greeted him. “Casterly Rock is yours.”

Jaime barely nodded to the man, instead, he turned to Sansa.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce you all to my bride,” Jaime's voice boomed over the crowd, “Lady Sansa, of House Stark. The new Lady Lannister and your Mistress.”

They all curtsy once more among whispers of ‘my lady, Lady Lannister and Lady Sansa.’

“Congratulations on your wedding, my lady,” The man in front of them addressed her. “I’m Denys Ferren, the Steward of Casterly Rock.”

Sansa nodded to the man in acknowledgement, and he turned to introduce her the Maester. She was asking a servant woman to show Naeyah her rooms when she heard Jaime grumble. Sansa turned around, Ferren was apologising to Jaime.

“It’s something wrong?” She asked her husband.

“My father had arranged a feast with all my family in two days’ time.”

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unsure about Sansa's characterization, she is aged up two or three years on this fic, so I wrote her in a way where she is loyal to the Starks but not single-minded on it and prejudiced. What do you think?
> 
> Let me a comment and let me know. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers,  
> Sorry for the unexpected hiatus, but summer kind of happened.  
> Chapter 5 is here, the second half is a bit rushed but I just wanted to publish it already, before you all forget about the fic. In return is a bit longer than the previous chapters.  
> The next chapter is mostly written, so I think it will be up next week or so.

# 

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa was standing in the middle of the most sumptuous rooms she had ever been. She had visited the Queen’s rooms in King’s Landing before, but they were almost plebeian beside these.

She and her husband had been shown to the Lord and Lady’s apartments, to Jaime’s much surprise, since he was still the heir and not the actual Lord of Casterly Rock. But the servants had received very specific orders from Lord Tywin, who apparently had no intention of coming back to the keep and was eager for Jaime to step in as the Lord of the Rock.

The Lady’s rooms had been closed down and unused since Jaime’s mother had died, which explained why he had stood on the door peeking inside with reverence.

Her new domains included three private rooms and an ample solar to be shared with Jaime. The solar gave access to both the Lady and the Lord’s rooms by two different doors, each of them got to the Lord’s study and in her case to a room that double as study and a sitting room of sorts.

It wasn’t a big room so instead of a hearth, there was a brazier in the middle of it. In a corner near the window, were a few spinning spindles and two embroidery hoops over a small table. Behind the brazier, a writing table and a matching chair made out of carved walnut wood and crimson upholstery, against one of the walls was a cabinet of the same wood filled with ledgers. Next to the cabinet was a door that gave pass way to the Lady’s bedchamber and on the remaining wall hanged a beautiful tapestry depicting one of the tales of how Lann the Clever swindled Casterly Rock from the Casterlys.

The bedchamber where she was standing at the moment, was the biggest one she had ever seen.

One side followed the curve of the stone hill, though most of the stone had disappeared and instead was covered from ceiling to floor with glass. It reminded her of Winterfell’s glass garden – a structure that could make the difference between life and death and yet was so expensive that very few, besides the Starks can afford it in the North – however here it was, covering almost twenty feet of a bedroom’s wall with the sole purpose of looking splendid.

Two of the glass panels in the middle opened to the outside giving way to a six feet wide balcony and almost thirty feet long carved in the stone. There was another glass door that opened to the Lord’s bedchamber, which was much smaller since it was a given in that the lord would expend most of his nights sharing the lady’s bed.

Both rooms shared a wall with a hearth so big that it could probably accommodate a small horse, it had two lion heads carved in stone and expertly painted with gold. At least, three red silk plush rugs covered the stone floors.

Near the corner were two doors, one smaller and partially concealed by a tapestry that leaded to the lord’s bedroom and the other lead to the lady’s boudoir. There was a trunk holding the second door open, and two others besides, opened and unsorted. Sansa recognized one of her old dresses inside one of the trunks.

Two chairs matching the one from the study were placed by the hearth, as well as a pitch of wine and a fruit bowl over a table.

Only two more pieces of furniture filled the room, a table – supporting a looking glass and covered with perfumes, oils and other cosmetics – and the bed.

Sansa speculated that it could probably accommodate four big-built bodies with ease. As the rest of the furniture, it was hand-carved from walnut wood, the four bedposts had ivy leaves covering them, and the headboard had the Lannister’s coat of arms and words carved in. From the canopy hanged gold silks falling to the floor and the thick feathered mattress was covered with a crimson bedspread.

Never in her most extravagant dreams, Sansa would have been able to conjure rooms like these. She was trying very hard to not look at everything with her mouth opened and look like an unrefined, brutish northerner to the westerner’s servants, but that was how she truly felt, coarse and countrified, completely unworthy of all the luxury around her.

She went out to the balcony, it towered over the sea, Lannisport could be seen at her right, the houses small like wooden toys and the people just a tad bigger than ants.

Sansa finally knew it, she fiercely wanted _this_.

She wanted to be Lady of this preposterous keep, to rule over these people and be respected and admired like Cersei never would. For just a second, Sansa even considered having Jaime as her own revenge over her, make him want her more than he ever wanted Cersei, but she held back her own vengeful fantasies, she didn’t want to become a spiteful, jealous creature like Cersei.

She would _never_ be like her.

She wanted to have this, but two years earlier she had wanted nothing more than being Joffrey’s wife. She needed to carefully consider if what she wanted now was the best thing for her.

She couldn’t be that stupid girl again.

Sansa had pondered over her family situation and her own, but now that she knew what she wanted, she had to consider the future, and the most important part of it, was how the war might end.

She didn’t know much about Stannis' moves after he lost the Battle of Blackwater Bay. But in the event of him winning the crown, she thought he might be more lenient with the North since none of them had made his brother a cuckold and placed three bastards as his heirs, but will she be merciful to her as Jaime’s wife?

It was difficult to say.

Yet Sansa didn’t think Stannis had many chances of winning the war, she believed it would be either Robb or Gods forbid it, Joffrey.

If Robb won, Sansa knew he would execute Joffrey, probably Cersei too. She didn’t think he would be too lenient with Jaime, but maybe she could convince Robb to send Jaime to the Wall. If by then, she had a child, she could rule over the Westerlands until her child would be of age.

In any case, it would be a sweet deal for Robb to have his sister and a nephew ruling over Lannister’s lands.

She didn’t really want to consider Joffrey besting Robb, but she knew she must. He would want Robb’s head on a spike, as their father's had been. She pondered if Lord Tywin might stop him, but she remembered it was under his orders that Elia Martell and her children had been murdered to help Robert Baratheon’s claim.

Maybe Jaime could plead for Robb’s life? But for that to happen, Sansa would have to do more than being a willing and eager bed mate like she had promised him.

He would have to _care_ for her.

If somehow, she would succeed in that regard, Jaime could ask to spare Robb’s life and instead send him off to the Wall. If Robb had no heirs, one of Sansa’s future children could claim Winterfell and if he had, Robb’s child could be betrothed to one of Sansa’s and the Lannisters would still take a bite at the North. Maybe she can even manage for her mother to live with her here, in Casterly Rock.

She would pray for Robb to win the war, but if things didn’t go their way, she must be prepared for.

“M’ lady?”

Sansa turned around to find a servant woman bowing to her. She was around forty, light blonde and medium built, but what struck the young lady was the fear and contempt in her eyes. She had been looked with hatred for a long time now, but never with such fear. Sansa assumed the hatred was to be expected since she was a Stark and his brother had been fighting against the westermen for a long time now. But the dread, she didn’t understand it… unless… unless they were afraid of what she represented instead of her. The woman in front of her was old enough to remember Cersei if she had been serving here for long.

“M’ lady’s trousseau and luggage arrived a few days ago, the maids are awaiting instructions to arrange them.” The servant informed Sansa. “There is also a bath drawn for m’ lady in the boudoir.”

“Thank you, ehmm…”

“Ellyn, m’ lady.” The woman supplied.

“Thank you, Ellyn. I’ll take the bath now.” Sansa smiled kindly at her. “My handmaid will inform the maids on how to arrange my luggage.” Sansa entered the room and walked to the boudoir, the servant woman walking behind her. “I’m also in need of another handmaid and chambermaids. Would you be so kind as to make inquiries for appropriate candidates to be sent to me tomorrow?”

“Of course, m’ lady… although…”

“I know is terribly short notice,” Sansa apologised. “But Ser Jaime has informed me we’re to expect visitors in two days’ time. I can’t receive visitors with just one handmaid.”

Two servant girls were eyeing oil bottles beside a big wood bathtub with golden lion paws, they both curtsy when Sansa came in. Naeyah appeared from a service door, already out of her riding clothes and ready to help her undress.

“The lavender and the red currant, please.” Sansa pointed out to the young servants.

 

‘ _Gain the service’s favour._ ’ Had been of the first Lady Olenna’s pieces of advice.

 

There was no need for a Lady to say ‘please’ or apologise to her servants. Most of them only expected not to be brutalized and get their wages, the women were usually satisfied when they didn’t have to worry about wandering hands or worse, and Sansa highly doubted they would have to dodge Jaime’s. But she would ask nicely, be kindler than need it and anything else she could think off to keep them in her favour, thus if she ever might need their confidence or help, they would remember.

She undressed and sink in the warm perfumed water. Naeyah helped her to wash her hair and then left her alone until the water grew cold.

The hearth in the boudoir was lighted, so Sansa sat beside it while her handmaid combed her hair out. One of the girls from before knocked at the door and from the other side, announced her, the midday meal was set in the solar and that Ser Jaime would be joining her.

Sansa put on one of her old dresses, she left her still damp hair down and walked back to the solar to join her husband.

Jaime was already in the room, in front of the hearth. His back was turned to her and he hadn’t noticed her. She took a moment to observe the man her whole future depended on.

He had bathed and changed too, his golden hair was clean, and he wore different clothes that still didn’t fit him quite right.

The table was all set, some delicacies were already waiting there. She smiled rejoiced at the sight of the fresh fruit but frowned when she noticed the two only chairs placed on each end of the table.

How ridiculous was to sit them alone and yet six foot apart?

Sansa cleared her throat to make her presence known, Jaime turned around at the same moment two servants came in carrying soup serving bowl and a roasted leg of lamb.

“Ah, just in time.” Jaime noted.

The servants set the food and pulled their chairs for him and Sansa to sit. One of the servants served them a clear soup, then both of them disappeared and a young blond boy – a cupbearer – entered with a jug of white wine. Jaime waited till the boy stepped away, standing close to the wall.

“Our surprise guests will arrive in two days, during the morning more likely,” He announced, taking a sip of his wine. “Though I think my aunt will probably arrive tomorrow.”

“I see,” Sansa acknowledged, tasting the soup and delighting herself with the flavour after days of dubious quality food. “Who exactly are our guests?”

“Most of the Lannister’s womenfolk, from what I gathered,” He made a tiring gesture like it was an awful perspective. “They’re travelling to King’s Landing for the wedding."

Sansa nodded in acceptance, but then a suspicion flew right into her mind.

“Is Casterly Rock in their travelling path to the capital?” She inquired.

“Not in the least.” Jaime smirked.

Sansa’s eyes wandered towards the cupbearer, a Lannister by his looks, then snapped her eyes back to her husband.

“I see.” She nodded. She knew the were coming to spy on them – on her – but she didn’t know if they all answered back to Lord Tywin or if some were on Cersei’s web, the former she could deal with, the later was much more dangerous though, but she couldn’t ask about it in front of the boy – who could be a spy on his own. So, she inclined herself for a polite more innocuous question.

“You’ll have to walk me through, they’re so many Lannisters after all.”

“That we are,” He agreed, he glanced at the boy who refilled his barely touched cup before walking to the door. “And you are one of us now too.”

His statement hanged like an omen, while the servants came back in to retire their first course and carve the lamb. A plate of meat with mashed turnips was placed in front of her and the servants disappeared again.

“You said your aunt will arrive first,” Sansa resumed their conversation, “Is she your father’s sister?”

“She is. My aunt Genna.” Jaime confirmed. “One of the few of my kin I’m truly partial to.”

Sansa nodded along, chewing her food while mulling over Jaime’s words. She wasn’t much aware of which Lannister had died fighting against Robb, but she knew two of Jaime’s cousins has been murdered by the Karstarks while being held as prisoners. Some of these incoming Lannister’s women were bound to be closely related to them.

“What is it?” Jaime urged her when the silence stretched far too long.

“Is… your cousins…” She began hesitantly, “the ones the Karstarks killed…”

“Ah, yes.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter that much. “Tion was one of Genna’s sons, but she is smart enough to know how war works.” Jaime kept eating and Sansa found his answer irksome.

Those Lannister hadn’t died fighting her brother on the field, they had been murdered in their cells because the Karstarks couldn’t have laid his hands on Jaime himself.

“Willem was my uncle’s Kevan,” He continued, “his wife and daughter are coming too. I can’t answer for them, but they’d fools to blame you.”

‘ _Would they?_ ’ Sansa thought.

She had blamed every Lannister for her father’s death, even when she knew Joffrey was the guilty one. It took her a while to realise she couldn’t hate them all, not if she was to survive. If Tyrion wasn’t a Lannister, she might admit she find him agreeable and Kevan Lannister seemed like a nice enough man.

In any case, it hadn’t been Robb the one to kill those Lannister’s boys and he had sentenced to death those responsible for it, which was more than any Lannister had ever done in a similar position. Even Jaime had promised Sansa’s mother to deliver her and Arya in exchange for his freedom, yet here they were.

“Who else is coming?” She asked instead, Jaime shook his head disinterested.

“My Devan’s cousin sisters, I think,” He answered anyway, “Genna’s good-daughters and maybe my cousin Damion and his wife.”

The servants came in once again, they carried a serving bowl of baked pears coated with honey and cinnamon, Sansa’s sweet tooth delighted at the sight. Jaime, however, refused his plate and took a fresh peach, while she enjoyed her pears.

“Ser,” A third servant addressed Jaime, “Shall we order one of the maids to wake you up for the morrow hunt’s party?”

He frowned baffled at the idea of maid waking him up, then he caught the man’s gaze towards Sansa.

“No need,” Jaime answered, “I’ll sleep in the Lord’s quarters, my squire will wake me up.”

The servant nodded and disappeared with the other two, Sansa gazed at the cupbearer who was still present and pressed her lips to refrain herself.

“You’re going hunting?” She asked as indifferent as she could manage, though Jaime’s words had upset her.

“We need a few catches for that damn feast.” He explained detached.

“But you say your aunt will arrive tomorrow.” She argued.

“I’ll be back before her.” He took a last bite of the peach and threw the pit on the plate, then he stood up and left.

Sansa couldn’t finish her dessert after it, she came back to her new rooms and send for Naeyah.

“ _Mayhap my lady should be the one to go after your husband_.” Naeyah had suggested her just a few days back. Sansa hadn’t been sure of what to do then, but she knew now.

All her plans for the future hanged on Jaime being at least pleased with her, she couldn’t do that if he refused to share her bed, so she will try and go after him instead. She just hoped Naeyah’s love goddess had some advice on how to do that because that hadn’t been on any lesson her Septa had given to Sansa.

 

* * *

 

Despite the short notice, more than a few women shown the next morning for the handmaid and chambermaid’s positions.

Sansa had seen them in her study attended by Naeyah. A few women had been young girls but most of them had been war’s widows, she had chosen one of the later as her new handmaid.

A strongly built woman who had clearly lost too much weight recently, her clothes had some quality but had been mend more than a few times and were hanging loose from her body, she was clean and put together with her brown hair neatly done in a braided top bun. She had come with a young girl of about six name-days, who Ellyn – that was guarding the study’s door – had looked at with disapproval. The girl was also too thin, and her hair was done in a so elaborated style that it looked a bit ridiculous for a peasant.

Sansa had gathered the woman was good doing hair and her manners pleased her well enough, but she wasn’t sure about choosing her until she confessed, they had left the Riverlands after her husband had died in the Whispering wood’s battle fighting for House Mallister. She had asked the woman – Shella – if she knew her husband had died fighting against Lannister’s forces. She knew it, but said a soldier didn’t choose his liege, his battles or his death and so she didn’t hold a grudge against Ser Jaime or any other Lannister.

She had travelled to Lannisport to be able to feed her daughter after losing a younger child, but honest work didn’t pay that much and was difficult to come by.

Sansa had put mother and daughter in Ellyn’s charge, she had instructed her to give them both a hot meal and a chamber in the servant’s quarters. The blonde servant had a disapproving face, but said nothing, Shella however, had kneeled in front of her and had tried to kiss Sansa’s hands in gratitude, but Ellyn had taken the woman away before she could.

The display of gratitude had made Sansa felt uneasy since she was counting on the woman’s desperation as a motivation to be loyal to her.

She chose a younger western widow as one of her chambermaids and a girl who already worked at the Keep, as the other.

She expended the rest of the morning tending the preparations for the upcoming feast. She met with the steward in her study, Ferren talked her through the expenses and some of the Keep’s accounts. Sansa put special attention to it since she’d never had a natural disposition to do the numbers but was grateful Ferren tried to explain her. He escorted her to the kitchens to meet with the servants, he left her attended by the chief cook, the kitchen clerk, the confectioner and the brewer.

They all presented her their plans for the feast – some more willing than others – and she made a few adjustments more to her liking. She realized then, she didn’t really know Jaime’s food preferences and none of the servants she talked had been at Casterly Rock before he was named Kingsguard.

Sansa ate her midday meal alone on their solar. Jaime and the hunt’s party came back a few hours later with a deer and several pheasants. One of the men had been thrown off his horse and was sent straight to  Maester Creylen, Jaime was unharmed but seemed frustrated and worn out, so Sansa left him alone.

Lady Genna arrived later than expected, the redhead was preparing herself to bed when a maid came in with the message that she had arrived and chose to take a late supper at her own room and leave the greetings for the next day.

Sansa had dismissed the maid and retired to the ridiculous massive bed alone, again.

 

* * *

 

 Sansa spent the next morning attending the head cook, the confectioner, the head of the chambermaids, the chandler and a long string of servants, including a minstrel and a juggler, until she was positively dizzy with numbers, meals, candles, firewood and such.

She didn’t lay eyes on either Jaime or Lady Genna until the midday meal. It was served for the three of them in their solar. Aunt and nephew were already there, talking when she came into the room.

“Oh, I didn’t know…” Sansa blurted out startled, “Were you expecting me?”

“Come,” Jaime paying no heed to what she said, just waving her to came closer. “Sansa, this is my aunt, Lady Genna.”

Sansa approached and slightly bowed her head to welcoming the older woman.

Lady Genna had a handsome face despite being old enough to be her grandmother, her green eyes were piercing and smart, but they didn’t seem to have Cersei’s wicked glint. She was dressed in a soft orange and gold gown that make her look like a big, fat pumpkin, with a neckline too low for her age or her generous bosom.

“So, you are the Stark girl,” She said as a greeting, then turn her face to Jaime “A little young for you, Jaime.” She faced her again, “What are you seventeen, eighteen?”

“Fifteen.” Sansa answered collectedly.

“Well then, definitively too young for you,” She addressed Jaime, “You’re a pretty one, that I can see,” The older woman examined her up and down, “more than your mother and she was a renowned beauty. How many living babes has she had?”

“Five, my lady,” Sansa replied a little more coldly.

“Well, then, let’s hope you take after her in that too, and not after your aunt Lysa.”

After that introduction, their meal was a bit strained. Sansa tried to ignore any other remark Lady Genna made about her, which fortunately were only a few, but maybe that was because their meal was cut short.

A message came while they were on their second course, to let Jaime knew the rest of their guests would be arriving shortly.

They received them at the same opened cavern Sansa had met the Rock’s household only two days before.

There were three wagons and lots of horses filling the place. Two women around Jaime’s age came out from the first wagon, one was a very robust brunette, the other was slender but had a bitter expression. They both were Lady Genna’s good-daughters – Melesa Crakehall and Jeyne Darry. From the second wagon emerged a thin older woman, with a kind, sad face, and a blonde young girl around eight name-days, they were presented to her as Dorna Swyft and Janei Lannister – Ser Kevan’s wife and daughter. Two blonde women around twenty came out of the third wagon along with a boy and a girl, they turned out to be Jaime’s cousins – Cerenna and Myrielle Lannister, and the son and daughter of the former.

None of them was scornful to Sansa, but there was a general standoffish disposition toward her. The only exception being the young Janei who – when they were going into the castle – took Sansa’s hand and told her ‘her hair was very pretty’.

They were all sent to their rooms to rest and prepare for their upcoming fest.

 

* * *

 

 “This is wha you wanted me lady?” Shella asked her a few hours later, helping her prepare for the feast.

Sansa looked up her reflexion in the vanity, Shella had managed a beautiful half up crown braid around her head. She had braided a string of tiny gold nuggets, Lord Tywin had given her as a wedding present, into it.

“Yes, it’s perfect Shella.” She thanked her, the woman beamed pleased with her work.

She gave Sansa a hand so she could stand up in her smallclothes, ready to be dressed. Naeyah helped into a sleeveless red underdress – it wasn’t a Lannister’s red, more like a red wine colour – she fastened it tight at both sides, causing her small breasts being pressed together and the low neckline showing the top of them, making Sansa embarrassed and hesitant.

It was one of the new garments she had ordered after Lady Olenna had recommended her to show a little more flesh if she wanted to attract Jaime’s attention. But now that she had to brave the clothes, she wasn’t so sure about her decision.

Her handmaids didn’t give her time to change her mind though, coming to her with the overdress.

It was her wedding dress.

She had sent it to be modified, they took out most of the skirt’s sides fabric and replaced with two side wide slits from the hips to the floor, they had used some of the fabric to change the short sleeves into long ones. They’d also changed the neckline into a deeper one that would show the dress underneath. Sansa had made the collar with the wolfs being attacked by the lion disappear and had decorated the shoulders and the back of her neck with golden feathers.

Naeyah put the last piece in place, a golden metal belt with the Stark’s sigil on its clasp.

She turned to see the result on the small looking glass.

“You look like a queen, me lady,” Shella whispered dazed.

She looked quite good, she conceded to herself. She just wished it was good enough to shut up all the Lannisters in the castle, or at least to lure one of them to her bed.

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think?  
> Did I go over the top with Casterly Rock's description? Is such a weird Castle and there is almost nothing about it that I felt I needed some skeleton for the characters to be around.  
> Sorry for all of you that were expecting Sansa's interactions with other Lannisters, there wasn't much and I don't think it will be much in the near future, but we will see.  
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Like I promised the next chapter is here. Buckle yourselves up, because things are happening!  
> Jaime's POV is here. :standing ovation:  
> I have the bad habit of changing POVs without warning. I thought it might get confusing, so even if it didn't work so well because the POV changes during the middle of 'something', I put a little parting there to ease you into it.  
> Also, do you remember/notice this is rated explicit? Well....

# 

 

* * *

 

 

She had to concede it to the Lannisters, they knew when to finish a feast. Sansa still remembered the ones she had attended in presence of King Robert, they were never-ending. Tonight, however, they had eaten, conversed and hear the singer. They had been no dances since it had been a small gather and Jaime the only male, but the songs had been beautiful. Jaime’s cousin, Myrielle, asked for the last song and afterwards, they all had started to retire.

Lady Genna was the only one left in the Great Hall when Sansa decided to leave. The woman was sitting next to Jaime, having a hushed conversation with her nephew. Jaime’s hand landed over Sansa’s when she stood up. She turned to look at him and saw the same intense stare he had given her the whole evening.

“Don’t retire yet.” He told her. “There is something I want to discuss with you.”

Sansa looked over to Jaime’s aunt and him again.

“I’m giving some instructions to the servants, I’ll come back.” She agreed hesitantly, he gave her a nod and left her go.

Sansa marched off to the kitchens, where her commanding stance made most servants came to a halt in the middle of their chores.

“M’ lady?” The cook addressed her in a daze.

“I want to congratulate you all on your work tonight.” She tried her most imposing voice, but even she could notice it had trembled at the beginning. “On the morrow, after I break my fast, please come to the Great Hall to be rewarded in kind.”

Almost everyone in the kitchens smiled jubilantly at her announce and some of them expressed their gratitude. She gave them a nod and turned around, strolling back to the Great Hall.

_‘Gain the servants’ favour.’_

Being complimentary and generous will earn her some sympathies among the servants, her forthcoming allowance would help quite nicely, and if she treated them fair and right – as her father used to – she might even get their loyalties.

She passed Lady Genna in the corridor, walking out the Great Hall. The woman smiled somewhat knowingly at her, leaving Sansa with the impression that she was missing something.

Jaime was swirling a cup of wine when she approached.

“You wanted to discuss something with me?” She asked as he came near him.

“I did.” He nodded to the chair at his left, she walked to it but chose to stand still. He gave her an unreadable look and sat back on his chair. “I found out you had ordered this surcoat to be made.”

“I did.” She admitted a little puzzled.

“And your dress, I presume.” He pointed at her.

“Yes.”

“Who paid for it?” He questioned, his voice brimming with suspicion. Sansa pressed her lips in anger when she realized where he was going with the sudden inquiry.

“I tried to ask _you_ , but you were nowhere to be found.” She remained calm, but her voice was full of contempt. “So, I talked to Tyrion.”

“To Tyrion” He repeated like he didn’t believe her.

“I asked him, whom should I address to have some new clothes made.” She explained in a steel tone. “He said he would take care of it and sent for the drapers and tailors.”

Jaime nodded taking all in.

“And did my brother procure something else for you?” He continued.

Sansa paused after the question, wriggling her fingers undecided.

“He said he’d discuss with your father about setting my allowance as Lady of Casterly Rock.” Jaime raised his eyebrows surprised. She bit her lip questioning herself about telling everything or not, but she knew Tyrion would tell him if he asked him. “He… he also gave me a small purse.”

“So, you have coin and I’m still alive.” He marvelled with a cynic smile. “You could have me killed and run.”

“I would have been dead before reaching the Lion’s Mouth.” She answered like it was the stupidest thing she ever heard.

“You could have done it during our journey,” He counteracted.

She snickered, wondering how she may have killed him when they’d never been alone, or how was she supposed to outrun their entourage by herself.

“You could have paid someone,” He offered instead. “you still can.”

“It isn’t such a wealthy purse, but I guess I could try to persuade Brienne to have you assassinated, though most likely she’d found it dishonourable.” She mussed flippantly. “Or I could not have you killed at all, just tried to break out. Hide in the mines, maybe, but I don’t know if I would find my way out.”

“You thought about it.” He said in between admiration and amusement. She just contemplated him with a calculating stare.

“Even If I could run away and somewhat cross the Westerlands and the Riverlands to join my brother and mother, what would become of me?” She asked him. “Robb would annul this marriage, no doubt. I’m still the easiest way to make alliances, but what kind of man would want me after being your wife?” She wondered aloud then looked at Jaime in the eye. “I could lie to them, I guess. Tell them you abused me or raped me, they’d leave me alone for a while then. I’d become another symbol to despise the Lannisters.”

“They would believe you.” He pointed sullenly, she nodded.

“But again, what kind of life I would have after it?”

“You’re your brother’s heir.” He argued.

“Only until her wife gives him a child.” She retorted, “Then what?”

“So, if I understand it correctly,” He looked intently at her, “you think I’m your best option.”

“At the moment, I’m the Lady of one of the most prominent Westeros’ houses.” She observed detachedly. “I have a position, expensive dresses, some money and… and you… kept your word. You promised to get me out of King’s Landing, and you did.” She admitted, for the first time avoiding his gaze. “I… I made you a promise of my own.”

She felt herself blushing, recalling their wedding night and the promise she had made him in return for taking her away from King’s Landing.

“I… hope when the war is over,” Sansa resumed, “you’ll let me see my mother again…” _And maybe she won’t despise me_ , she thought to herself. “Maybe… she could come to terms with our marriage.” Said instead.

He nodded, acknowledging her desire, but changing the topic with his next words.

“What are your plans then for that purse of yours,” He looked fixedly at her, in that petulant way of him. “If you won’t use it to murder me, I mean.”

“I… I told the servants to come to me in the morning,” She admitted despite her will, she wriggled her hands again, this time with embarrassment. “I plan to give them some coin.”

“Why?” Jaime frowned confounded. “They’re already being paid.”

“They’ve managed to prepare this feast in just a few days.” She explained. “The cook and confectioner even changed some courses because I asked.”

“Is their work.” He stated with blatancy.

“And they will work better,” She tried to enlighten him, “if they are happy with their masters.”

Jaime laughed suddenly, greatly amused. Sansa frowned at him, confused by his outburst.

“Oh, they’ve no idea of what they’ve done,” He exclaimed shaking his head. “My father thinks you are an innocent, silly girl; my aunt deduces you have enough wits for me to _educate_ you into a proper lioness. But you’re already a wolf – a cunning one, which is a great improvement – but a wolf nonetheless.”

Sansa’s cheeks redden, and she felt an unexpected warmth spreading in her chest at the expense of his compliment, _a cunning wolf_.

He stared at her warmly, enjoying the view more than he cared to admit, then stood up hastily, cupped the back of her head and crushed her mouth against his own.

Sansa was at first, shocked by the sudden, forceful kiss, then she was overwhelmed. It was a kiss so rushed that she could barely keep up with, but the hunger of it made her felt elated. A different kind of warmth spread through her body then, starting in her chest and unfurling a longing ache in her womb.

He hadn’t touched her since their wedding night, not like this. He had held her hand, peck her cheek and helped on her horse, but nothing else. So, she had asked Lady Olenna how to get him back, keep him interested, how to be a wife, and then asked Naeyah how to lure him and how to please him. Therefore, his hasty kiss also made her feel satisfied with her achievement.

She placed her hands over his shoulders, his tongue sliding against her own was making her dizzy and weak. He encircled her waist with his other arm and pressed her against his body. The feeling was so delicious, Sansa gripped the fabric of his red surcoat for fear her legs would give up on her.

He stopped the kiss quite suddenly, leaving her breathless and light-headed. His thumb caressed her jaw and the side of her neck.

“Will you… come to our rooms tonight?” She asked him in a whisper.

“You want me to?” He questioned back cockily like he already knew her answer. She felt self-conscious but he said once he liked her bold.

“I do,” She admitted openly. It was the truth, her heart was pounding against her ribcage, her whole body felt overheated and she knew now what the pulsing between her legs meant.

He kissed her again, this time she managed to follow his passionate pace. She cupped the back of his head tentatively, their tongues tangling together, his taunting, hers following compliantly. Her eyes opened in surprise when his fingers unclipped the belt that held her golden dress in place.

“We should… we should go to our rooms.” She faltered against his lips.

“Why?” He asked, his hand unlacing the dress’ waist.

“A-a-anyone can come in.” She stuttered.

She couldn’t believe he wanted to take her right there, in the _Great Hall_. She was ready to be more proacting in their coupling like Naeyah had advised her, but this was too much.

“They’re all in their rooms.” His hand caressed her shoulder under the heavy fabric, not taking it off just yet, waiting while he exposed his arguments.

“The servants are not.” She argued weakly.

“I can’t care less about them.” He declared. She pressed her lips displeased, challenging his statement. Maybe he didn’t, but she did care very much what the servants thought about their new lady. “I’m sure they would be _very happy_ to know how willing you are to please their lord.” He joked roguishly, she bit her lip trying to suppress a smile, even though her face was burning with embarrassment at the notion.

He kissed the side of her neck just below her jaw, his tongue traced a path down to her shoulder making her shiver and gasp, as he finally peeled the golden fabric from her body.

“Don-don’t throw it on the floor.” She pleaded breathless, recalling how expensive it was. Jaime huffed but threw it over a chair instead. She was left in her sleeveless, burgundy underdress.

“Aren’t you quite the temptress?” Jaime asked aloud. He walked her backwards, pushed her back against the table and coaxed her to hop on it. “Help me out of this.” He commanded her, unlacing his surcoat.

She took over with deft fingers and he focused on kissing the hollow between her clavicles and the top of her confined breasts, which made Sansa’s fingers miss her mark a few times.

He did throw his surcoat on the floor, positioning himself hastily between her dangling legs. He gripped her thighs and brought her body to the edge of the table. His hand found the hem of the dress and bunched the fabric, raising it up to her hips.

Jaime focused his eyes on her face while his hand expertly pushed aside her small clothes. Her pupils dilated when his knuckles brushed her most delicate flesh, her face pinked up and she bit her lip in the most tempting way. His fingers prodded her lady parts until they found her entrance. Sansa’s core ached so badly that when his fingers grazed her, she rolled her eyes into the back of her head at the feeling.

He pushed two fingers into her, watching her face fighting to repress a vocal pleasure while her sex swallowed his fingers readily, already wet and eager. His cock grew painfully uncomfortable inside his clothes at the sight of her.

Sansa gripped the edge of the table, needing something solid to hold on. The feeling was even better than she remembered. When Jaime’s fingers curved inside her and he pressed his thumb against the apex of her sex, she lost the battle to keep herself noiseless. A string of shameless moans and gasps escaped her lips.

She quickly gathered Jaime’s fingers pleased her more eagerly the louder she vocalized her satisfaction. Nevertheless, he took his fingers out before she was able to reach her peak. She opened her eyes, to look at him confounded and disappointed. He freed his cock hurriedly and countered her discontent by rubbing its head up and down her now, dripping wet core.

\- <3<3<3 -

Jaime realized it was going to be a quick affair, he had been restraining himself for more than three weeks and he was on the edge of bursting. He supposed he could always make it up to her afterwards or in the morning, she didn’t ask him to come to their rooms for nothing.

He pushed his cock in and she gasped repeatedly like she was overwhelmed by it, her walls fluttering around him. His hips pressed even forward in response.

He gave her a hasty, sloppy kiss, sucking her lower lip before he started to move. He didn’t even try to keep it slow, his thrusts were fast and sharp from the very beginning. It took her a little time to catch up with him, though she let out the most delicious overwhelmed mewls since the first thrust. Her legs curled around his hips at soon enough, pressing him against her, while she grabbed the edge of the table to support herself.

He brought her face to him, sloppily kissing her, biting her lips while she quietly moaned her pleasure. Jaime traced her jaw till her ear.

“Louder.” He ordered her. She turned her face to look at him hesitantly, he mouthed his command again. Her next moan was indeed a bit louder, but he wanted more. “Louder, Sansa.”

She raised her voice again. He, however, kept encouraging her until she was undoubtedly screaming. Her hoarse, awed groans echoing in the Great Hall.

He wished he knew how to unfasten her underdress because he’d liked to see her teats, but he was already too far gone to find it out. He felt the pressure building in his loins and his urges overtook him.

He slid his right arm under Sansa’s arse and his left one just above it, his hand took a strong grab of one of her buttocks and he lifted her up. She squealed in surprise, tightening her legs around his hips and holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Her slender body fully pressed against him

Jaime bent his knees, and she fell down on him. He cursed, and she yelped at how deep he was suddenly impaling her. He latched his mouth on her neck and started to move up and down with animal, rough motions.

Like it happened during their wedding night, Jaime caught a good sight of a lustful nymph hidden under years of proper and modest upbringing. She either completely forgot or didn’t care anymore about being heard or walked in, because every time she fell on his cock she squealed her pleasure loud and clear. She tried at some point, to fuck him back, though her moves were uncoordinated. She also slid one hand under his shirt, over his back, nails marking his flesh with every thrust.

He was relishing on how much he liked this unaffected, sensual part of her when the pressure in him unexpectedly reached the top and exploded. He grunted her name and his thrusts became irregular while he spent himself into her. He walked blindly back to the table, right after his release, to support himself.

Jaime’s sight was starting to clear when he noticed her fast pants and the way her body was contorting around him. He searched under her skirts until he found her bud of nerves at the apex of her cunt and rubbed her mercilessly, his cock still buried in her while she rode him wantonly through her own orgasm.

He stared at her face, hypnotized by her complete raptured expression. Her mouth opened in a perfect ‘o’, her eyes closed, her skin glowing with sweat and almost as red as her hair. He felt himself getting hard again at the sight and feel of her release. She finally let herself fall, laying over the table, her legs dangling from the edge.

His half-hard cock slid out of her overlubricated sex. She opened her eyes at the loss.

Jaime arched an eyebrow and smiled at her cockily.

“We’re quite good at this.” He bragged, she tried to look away with some left modesty, but he grabbed her chin to prevent her. “No, don’t hide.” He instructed her, she nodded hesitantly.

“I’ll try.” She promised. “I…I liked it, I liked it... very much.”

“I’ve noticed.” He gloated, and she blushed fierily but didn’t hide again.

He helped her to get off the table, she lowered her dress and straightened the skirts while he laced his breaches. She bent down and took Jaime’s surcoat from the floor.

“Leave it.” He stopped her and took the clothes from her. “I’ll take them all.”

She nodded and started to walk towards the door that led to the great chambers’ stairs, she stopped when she noticed he wasn’t following her.

“Aren’t you coming?” She turned around and frowned.

“I have to track down the steward.” He noticed an uncertainty on her face and smiled smugly. “Don’t worry, little wolf, this isn’t over yet.”

She blushed prettily and left in a hurry. The smile didn’t leave Jaime’s face for a while. The situation was so strange for him, he didn’t know how to feel about it.

He hadn’t shared Sansa’s bed during their remained time in King’s Landing due Cersei’s not so veiled threats.

She had been raging mad when she’d found out he had no intention to oppose their father’s wedding plans, but what he could do?

Their father had persuaded Joffrey to expel him from the Kingsguard, the only way left for him to not marry the Stark’s girl would have been to exile himself or worse, take the black. Cersei hadn’t seen it that way, drunk and seething, she had threated to tell their father the truth. Jaime couldn’t believe she would be willing to turn her children into bastards just to get her way. She said, their father would surrender to her threats, Jaime knew he would before Cersei'd destroy his family legacy, but he also knew he would find a way to punish them both. He didn’t know what his father could do to him, he wouldn’t disown him, Jaime knew that much, but Cersei was an entirely different thing. Their father would use Joffrey if necessary, and Jaime knew the boy well enough to know he didn’t have any loyalties, not even towards his own mother. Sooner or later, his father would get rid of Cersei and then push another bride towards Jaime.

Plus, he felt somewhat compelled by his oath to Catelyn Stark, but of course, he wouldn’t tell Cersei that. Lastly, there was also that pesky, nagging doubt it came to his mind every time she looked at Cersei now, _‘when did his beautiful sister turn into this drunkard, unhinged woman?’_

Even with the fall out between him and Cersei, Jaime didn’t have any intentions to consummate his marriage, only to use it to protect the girl from Joffrey and any other groom his father could see advantageous.

He should have known things wouldn’t be that easy.

The day of his wedding he had been sad, angry, jealous and drunk and he had come onto the girl saying things like ‘ _they would have to consummate the marriage soon’_ and instead of the icy refusal he had expected, he had come across a resolute young woman offering herself in a shy but very alluring way.

It might have been the long months without sex, his time in captivation or how beautiful she was, but he had forgotten his good, honourable intentions and had fucked the girl he had sworn to return safely. Such was his record with honour and oaths, he should have expected this turn of events.

Nevertheless, he had not expected – not even after their very enjoyable first bedding – wanting Sansa very much. Yes, the sex had been good, but she was just a pretty maiden without anything remarkable in her.

Or so he had thought.

Staying away from her bed while in King’s Landing has been effortless, yet he hadn’t returned to Cersei’s. She still made threats to him and Sansa, he didn’t believe much in the ones she did against him, but for some reason, she did seem to truly hate the Stark girl. So, he changed her guards and get rid of her handmaids and stayed away from her as much as he could without angering his father, who on his part, wanted a Lannister’s babe on Sansa’s belly as soon as possible.

He and Tyrion had convinced their father that for that babe to be on the way, the best thing they could do was to get Sansa out of the capital. His father, as well as him, had heard of Joffrey’s treatment to the girl, so despite the unrest in the Westerlands, he had seen the benefits for her to stay in a more relaxed environment.

Once out of King’s Landing, Jaime had decided to stay away from Sansa. He had fallen short of his oath, so he could at least give her some peace without imposing himself to her. But what had been effortless at the capital, had turned very different during their journey to the Rock. He had been tempted to take her several times and he had refrained himself, partially because he didn’t fully thrust every soldier in their entourage.

Now that he had resolved to leave her alone, he began to find her quite alluring. She was very beautiful, with her creamy skin, her red mane or her tall and slender figure. But it was more than that, he had found strength in her character, a dry sense of humour and more wits in her head than most people he knew. Nevertheless, he had persisted, until this evening.

He had been waiting for her at the top of the staircase that led from the great chambers to the Great Hall. His servant had presented him a new dark red surcoat, that apparently, Sansa had ordered to be made for him. He had been livid at her presumption, but also because he had no idea from where or whom, she had gotten the money to pay for it.

He had turned around at the sound of her steps prepared to lash out at her, but the words had died in his throat.

She had been a living goddess dressed in Lannister’s colours walking towards him.

She had looked up uncertainly from under her eyelashes when she reached him, and he'd gotten hard instantly. He'd forgotten why he was angry and blindly offered his hand to help her going down the stairs.

Unfortunately for him, his three inches of height over hers gave him a perfect view of her cleavage – ‘ _Had she ever worn such a revealing dress before?’_ – pressing against the firm fabric with every breath she took. Jaime couldn’t figure how he hand't tripped and fallen down the stairs when the only thing he could think about was burying his face between her teats.

He only remembered some bits of the feast, he had spent most of it half hard arguing with himself about leaving his wife alone or not. Of the bits, he did remember was the conversation with his aunt at the end of it.

 

* * *

 

“ _We need to have some words, Jaime,” Lady Genna announced, plopping into a chair next to him. The minstrel was singing about a sad mermaid, the children had already gone to bed, and Sansa was talking to Dorna about Lancel._

_“What about it?” He answered back._

_“Your wife, naturally,” She huffed displeased with his evasive answer._

_“Ah” His gaze flickered to Sansa before staring back at his aunt. “Her. Well, go ahead.”_

_“I hope you’ve noted she is not the silly girl your father thinks.” She pointed out, “Tywin is not the best judge of character with women, I’m afraid.”_

_< <You’ve no idea.>> He thought about his father general disregard to women. Instead, he said, “The girl has some wits.”_

_“Don’t let her youth and her pretty face fools you, nephew,” Lady Genna reprimanded him and he had almost expected her to pinch his ear. “That girl knows her game, she is unpolished but not without skill. Should you instruct her well, you may get a proper lioness.”_

_“Uhmm.” He asserted, lost in the thought that surely her aunt wasn’t thinking on schooling Sansa in the same areas of knowledge he was thinking at the moment._

 

* * *

 

In the end, Sansa herself had been the deciding factor.

The moment she told him he was her best option and that she intended to keep the promise she made to him on their wedding night, Jaime had realized there was no point in keeping his distance, they were a done deal and it was time to move forward.

 

He recalled then, Sansa was waiting for him in their rooms. With any luck, still awake.

He left the clothes over the chair and went searching for that damn steward.

 

 

-TBC-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... what do you think?  
> Btw, This was the first chapter I wrote when I decided to make a sequel of 'Breath lust into me', so I'm a little skittish about posting it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally alone in their rooms, things become interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I was going to post this at the end of the week, but I have some free time, so why not now.  
> I'm super happy you all liked the last chapter! :)
> 
> This one gets a little -a lot- hot but there is some conversation here too.  
> I'm posting a previous talk, that happened during their wedding night because I wanted you all to notice why Jaime say some -slightly kinky?- things in this chapter.

**Previously**

 

_“This acceptance lady-like version won’t do though,” He explained her. She frowned a little. “The one almost swearing and fucking me as good as she got would be the one with any chances._

_“I see,” She nodded, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear. She licked her lips and leant forward until she was kneeling on the bed. She moved until she was behind him. She placed her left hand on his shoulder and tentatively circled his right shoulder with her arm, her head came to rest between his neck and shoulder, close to his ear._

_“I didn’t know a woman could enjoy it that much,” She confessed in a whisper, Jaime tried to turn his head to her, but she caught his chin with her left hand and stopped him. “What you did to me, with your fingers and your−your…”_

_“Cock” He supplied halfway amused, half aroused._

_“Yes.” She nodded, kissing his neck gently, “That was the best thing it happened to me in years.” She confessed. Her left hand went down over his chest, stopped at his nipple and passed her thumb over it just as he had done to her._

_“Umh, this is who I was talking about.” He confirmed, “Which is the real one though?”_

_“I don’t know.” She admitted, her hand caressing his abdominal muscles. “I haven’t felt like a real person in a long time.”_

_“Not event tonight?” He asked frowning, turning his face to her._

_“For a few minutes,” she nodded, her nose sliding against his, “When you were…_ inside me, _that was the closest I’ve felt to be real.”_

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Sansa closed the door of their chambers and took a few moments to collect her scrambled feelings. She put her hands to her face, feeling her cheeks burning just by thinking about what she just had done.

Surely pleasing one’s husband was a proper thing to do and she couldn’t pretend she didn’t enjoy it, she just didn’t know how decorous was to do it in the Great Hall. Her Septa would have fainted for sure at the mere idea of it.

Once she calmed down, Sansa called for a chambermaid, who appeared promptly. The woman undid her hairdo, took out the string of gold that had been braided into it, unlaced Sansa’s underdress and helped out of it. The maid said nothing about half of her clothes being missing and Sansa avoided her eyes to prevent a betraying blush. Nonetheless, she sent the maid quickly to bed, announcing she would prepare herself to bed.

After the servant left, Sansa took off the rest of her clothes and washed off the remnants of their encounter in the washbasin. She slipped into her nightgown and sat in front of the vanity to brush her hair.

She was almost done when the door opened, and Jaime came in. As he promised, he was carrying their clothes, he left them in a pile over a trunk and sat on the armchair in front of the hearth.

Sansa stood up from her vanity and walked towards him, finishing her sleeping braid.

“Did you find the steward?” She asked and he nodded. “Why did you need to talk to him?”

“Some of our guests will leave the day after tomorrow, they need to have everything ready.” He bent over and try to pull off his boots, but they were new and with his only hand he couldn’t get rid of them by himself. Sansa noticed a bitter grimace and powerlessness in his eyes. She quickly approached him.

“Here,” She called him out. She stood before him and knelt, “Let me help you.”

She didn’t miss the way his pupils blown up when she went down on her knees, but she pretended not to notice and instead, focused her attention on his boots. By now, she knew where such a stare could lead and though she was glad of it, she also wanted – _needed_ – to get to know him.

She untied his boots and pull them off along with his stockings.

“Can I ask you something?” She inquired, putting his footwear aside.

“What do you want to ask?” He questioned back, his hand reaching for a loose lock of red hair.

“Normal things,” She shrugged, her eyes staring at the fire lighten in the hearth. “Silly things.”

“Like?” He chuckled.

Sansa turned to her side and rest her forearm on Jaime’s left knee, then look up to his face.

“What’s your favourite meal?”

“Well, silly indeed,” He shook his head, “Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I don’t know.” She simply answered. He squinted at her and she smiled amused. “I’m not trying to poison you, it’s that what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a relieve.”

“So?” She insisted when he didn’t say anything else.

“I’ve never thought about it much,” He dismissed it. “I guess… goose with mulberry sauce, eels pie, maybe.”

“And for dessert?” She continued.

“Fig tarts?” He offered, not quite convinced. “When I was a young boy, I liked syllabubs, but I hadn’t tried it in years.”

“Hmm,” Sansa rested her chin upon her arm on Jaime’s knee. “How good are you with sums and figures?”

“Not good at all,” He frowned, perplexed by the question.

“Me neither,” She groaned, “I hope you trust Ferren with the household’s figures.”

“I trust my brother better,” He admitted. “We’ll send him the books if needed.”

Sansa nodded softly. The light from the fire reflected upon Jaime’s golden hand and the glint blinded her for a moment, she moved her head but kept staring at it long enough for him to noticed it. When she looked up, his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“Does it hurt?” She whispered.

“Sometimes,” He croaked, “Less and less as time goes by.”

“Why the gold hand?” She asked softly.

“I can strap a shield to it,” He said, bothered by her questions. He tried to move the hand away, but she stopped him.

“You need no shield now,” She whispered.

Her fingers slid from the metal appendix to the flesh of Jaime’s arm, slowly enough for him to stop her if he wanted to. Sansa searched the straps and unbuckled it until the heavy object became loose, she cradled it in her hands and left it on the floor. She looked up at Jaime’s face, it was bleak and closed off, his lips tight and his Adam’s apple bobbing repetitively.

She looked at his stump, there was an angry pink scar across it, just above where his wrist should be, and red streaks around his forearm caused by the straps. She swallowed uneasy and rueful, she thought about how much it must have hurt, but she knew it wasn’t just that. It was a life-changing injury for him, a knight, a warrior without his sword hand. Most of Sansa’s scars were in her heart and her mind, she had some on her body, but not like his.

She extended her fingers to touch his reddened skin, however, Jaime’s left hand caught her wrist before she even grazed him.

“Don’t.” He forbade.

She looked up into his eyes, a dangerous shadow darkening his features. She wanted to touch him, to break that boundary, but she nodded under his catlike stare and backed off.

He left off her wrist and she turned her face away. None of them said anything for a while, Sansa’s eyes were focused on the fire crackling in the fireplace while she absently traced a tiny scar at the back of her right shoulder.

“Have you ever considered our lives have been intertwined long before we were wedded?” She questioned softly.

“How so?” Jaime inquired, watching the light of the fire being reflected upon Sansa’s face, while her gaze glazed over her own thoughts.

“The only reason Joffrey didn’t kill me,” Her fingers stopped tracing the scar as if she had suddenly realised what she had been doing, and instead, folded both hands on her lap. “was because your siblings told him, Robb would kill you in return.”

He was tempted to tell her he had been kept chained and malnourish in a cell, but no-one knew how terrifying and brutal the Red Keep could be better than Jaime. He also had a pretty good idea about how that scar on her shoulder had happened.

“Who did this?” He grazed her shoulder; the scar was about half an inch long following the curve of the shoulder’s bone.

“Ser Boros, I think.” She answered absent-mindedly.

“He shouldn’t have done that.” He objected, disgusted by the notion of the Kingsguard turned into girls’ tortures.

“He did it on Joffrey’s orders.” She pointed out, pulling up the collar of her nightgown to cover the scar.

“He should have challenged that order.” Jaime insisted on.

“Ser Arys tried that once,” She explained, turning her face to look up at him. “He still hit me.” She chinned up defiant, “You would have too.”

“I wouldn’t.” He vowed though it sounded unconvincing, even to him.

Sansa’s eyes glinted daringly, but she bit her tongue to stop the bitter remark from being said.

It wouldn’t serve any purpose to spite him.

She smiled sadly and knowingly at him and said nothing. He caressed the side of her face with a mirroring sorrowful expression.

“Come here,” He demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. She stood on her knees, supporting herself on his knees while he hulled her up until she was sitting sideways on his lap. He supported her back with his maimed arm and pulled her legs up until they were across his left thigh.

He grabbed her chin gently to look her in the eye.  

“No one will ever strick you again.” He vowed. “Not while I draw breath.”

“You can’t promise me that,” She denied.

Sansa’s left hand stood still mid-air for a second before she placed at the side of his jaw. She skimmed her fingertips over his skin – like Naeyah had suggested her – until her index was brushing his lower lip.

“But I’m grateful for the intention.” She thanked him with a hopeless smile.

His pupils widen under her maidenly caress and the two of them frozen up. Both felt something deeper and meaningful happening – an unspoken understanding – they had stolen a glance at each other damaged souls and had recognized themselves upon the mirroring reflection.

After a long pregnant moment, Jaime opened his mouth and licked her finger, trapping it tenderly between his teeth.

Sansa’s breath caught in her throat, excited rather than surprised, her pulse began to race at her next breath, and she felt a delightful shiver going down her spine.

The breath after that, they were hungrily kissing each other.

It was different than any other time, and they both realized it from the first brush of their lips.

For the very first time, Sansa was fully into it.

She wasn’t following him this time, no, they were pouring into each other. Tongues passionately dancing against each other, teeth pulling lips, and lips sucking on tongues while their groans and breaths merged with urgency.

Jaime’s hand buried in the red locks of her nape, her braid becoming undone around his fingers while he guided her head to the side. Sansa’s right hand followed his example, grasped the close-trimmed golden hair and pulled at it to tip his face up. Her left hand clutched the shirt over his shoulder.

Blind and feverishly, they tried to re-arrange her body over his but ended up falling from the chair in a heap of limbs over the plush red rug.

Not even the tumble slowed their eagerness, Jaime searched her neck to suck on her pulse zealously while Sansa pulled at his shirt. She heard the seams being pulled apart and found she couldn’t care less. He stopped his attentions to pull the garment over his head, throwing it to the side.

He was kneeling before her, she sat up and her fingertips glided over the tight muscles of his stomach up to his chest. She pressed her mouth to his navel and looked up to asses his reaction, under his appreciative stare, she flattened her tongue against his burning skin and licked her way up to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He praised her with a growl.

He grabbed the back of her head pulling her up, to find her mouth again.

Sansa fell backwards with him on top, her legs spreading automatically to fit him in. He ground against her core and they both moaned into each other mouths. Jaime pulled playfully at her lower lip before trailing down her long, pale neck with wet kisses.

He pulled down at the collar of her nightgown so impatiently that he tore it open, Sansa’s complaint dissolved into a needy moan when his mouth engulfed her left teat. Jaime sucked it hungrily until Sansa was arching, he swirled his skilled tongue around her hard nipple before taking it gently between his teeth and pull at it.

“Jaiiime!” She sobbed needy, grinding herself against him.

He discarded her ruined nightgown leaving her stark naked over the red rug. He ogled at her, admiring once more how stunning she was.

She opened her eyes and tried to pull him down, but he tenderly swatted away her arms and bent over to lick the underneath of her right teat. She raked her fingers through his short hair while his mouth travelled down her body until he was hovering over the dark red hair of her sex. He rubbed his nose against her pubis, the luscious scent of her cunt made him lick his lips in anticipation.

He turned around to grab a pillow from the chair and placed it under her.

“Jaime?” She asked him with uncertainty when he lied down on the rug, instead of on top of her.

“Oh, you’ll love this, little wolf.” He grinned, spreading her thighs wider.

He slowly licked her slit up delighting himself on the strong, addictive taste. Her body tensed up until he reached her pearl and tongued it delicately, she jolted surprised. He smiled at her eye-wide face and latched his mouth on her sensitive nub.

Sansa stuttered a few unarticulated syllables before her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her body arched, and she raised her pelvis against Jaime’s face.

He sucked on her pearl as an answer.

“Mother, maaaaaaaaaiden…,” She gasped out loud, her body strung up like a string bow, her prayer unfinished and forgotten. Her right hand searched for Jaime’s head with urgency, to press him against her core, while her left one got a hold of her own hair.

He alternatively swirled his tongue around her nub or sucked on it. She started to rhythmically thrust her hips against his mouth.

“Oh, _oh_ don’t stop!” She begged him after a few moments, “Please, _don’t stop_!” Her eyes now wide open, her hips pushing frantically against his face. Jaime swirled his tongue swift and repeatedly around her bud in response to her pleads.

“Jai– Jai– Jaimeeeeee!!” She screamed at last.

Loud and in awe.

All the muscles in her body tensed up, then started to shiver and tremble like a leaf, babbling something that resembled his name until she fell down almost half a minute later, spent and panting.

Jaime knelt between her legs, watched her boneless figure sprawled on the rug, trying to regain her breath. He turned around, moderately relieved to confirm they hadn’t toppled the side table during their vigorous activities. There was a bowl of grapes, a pitch of water and two glasses. He filled one glass and emptied in a single gulp, refilled and crawled to lay beside Sansa.

Sansa turned her head to him, opened her eyes and stared at him with wonder. He placed the glass in front of her with an eloquent smirk, she sipped it without taking her eyes off him.

When Sansa had asked Naeyah some counsel about how to inflame Jaime’s interest in her, the handmaid had mentioned she could try to please him with her mouth. Sansa had been so mortified after she had asked her maid for clarification, that they never got into the how. But if it felt near as good as what Jaime had just done to her, she would brave her embarrassment and found exactly how to do that to him.

At the moment, however, he was still wearing his breaches and she could easily notice his member was, well, still erected. She placed the glass on the floor away from them and just told him that.

“You’re still… stiff.” Her voice was hoarse, he laughed quietly.

“That I am.” He confirmed.

He laid on his back and untied his breaches, his manhood sprang free and upright. She sat up and helped him take the garment off.

Sansa had only stolen a few glances at his member the night of their bedding, now that she was less self-conscious, she took a good look at it. The head was kind of purpled, glistening and slightly bobbing. She tentatively wrapped her hand around the base as she had seen him do before.

It felt like a hard iron enfolded in soft silk.

Jaime’s hand suddenly covered hers and started to move both up and down his shaft. He nudged her thumb to make her stroke the glistening soft head and he gasped at the sensation. After a few more strokes, Sansa moved his hand away and then hers.

When he opened his eyes frustrated, she sat astride him.

Her wet womanhood grazed his member and his eyes rolled back into his head.

She stood up on her knees and clumsily took his manhood to position it at her entrance. Once she managed that, his member slide into her as smooth as a sword into the water, in just one slow motion, until he was fully sheathed in.

“Seven hells.” He cursed through clenched teeth.

Sansa started to move slowly, but Jaime’s body was all tightened and he kept clenching his jaws like he wasn’t quite enjoying himself.

“Am I doing it wrong?” She questioned him, stopping her motions, suddenly feeling insecure.

“It’s… too damn slow,” He hissed.

“Oh,” She nodded and leant her body slightly forward, placing her hands at his sides for support.

Sansa resumed her ride at a faster pace, but she noticed it wasn’t quite right yet. She slid her hands to his chest and bent forward to increase her speed to a blistering one. She tried not to focus on the loud, vulgar sounds of their bodies slamming into each other, because otherwise, she knew her embarrassment would take over. Instead, she focused on Jaime’s enraptured groans.

“That’s it,” He approved, grabbing her ass, “Fuck me hard, Sansa.”

When she recalled this instant later, she would blush furiously, but at the moment she happily obliged, riding him as hard and fast as she can. She panted her exertions, her hardened nipples rubbing against his hard chest, her body covered in sweat while Jaime kept encouraging her efforts with the lewdest words she had ever heard.

At some point, he released the hold on her ass to grab the back of her head, his fingers tangled in red tresses and pull her down to him, to whisper it all in her ear.

“This is the _real_ you, Sansa.” He avowed. Her face was tucked into his shoulder while she kept riding him, “This wild, lascivious animal, ecstatic of fucking a Lannister.” He threaded his fingers into her hair pulling it lightly, forcing her to tilt up and face him. “This is who _you_ really are.”

She closed her eyes and left out a mortified moan because she felt her craved release getting closer with each of Jaime’s impish claims.

“Fuck! Let me hear you howl, little wolf.” He demanded, now fucking her back sharp and hard. He licked her ear. “Beg the lion, girl.”

She felt her hips getting out of sync, while her walls fluttered around Jaime’s manhood.

“Beg, Sansa,” He huffed against her ear, punctuating each word with a hard, deep thrust.

“Oh! _oh!_ ” She gasped open-mouthed.

It started as a lightning bolt at the back of her eyes and it rapidly spread, clenching every muscle of her body.

“Oh! Yes, _please!_ ” She finally implored him, without even realising. “Yes, please, please, _pleaaaaase!_ ” 

“Yes! Yes, _Sansa_!” He roared in return, spilling himself into her womb while she shattered with pleasure.

 

* * *

 

 After their breaths slowed down, the only thing she could hear was the dying fire in the hearth and distantly the waves crashing rhythmically against the rocks hundreds of feet below them.

She stayed draped over him a long time after they both reached their climax. At first, it was because she was utterly drained, her mind blankness, her bones limp as jelly. However, after Jaime recovered, it was because he started to brush his fingers on her skin. Softly as a feather, he drew on her back and neck, sometimes it felt like he was writing, others like he was doing shapes.

But what overwhelmed Sansa was the delicacy of it. Till the point, her throat closed, and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt cherished.

She squeezed her eyes to get rid of the incipient tears, then turned her face to the skin of his chest and pressed her lips gently against it.

She knew it was a very different kind of kiss, it hadn’t anything to do with their coupling. Her lips were pressed against his skin for a long tender moment.

It was an acknowledgement. A ‘thank you’. An ‘I know’. A ‘me too’.

Jaime’s fingers travelled to her chin and lifted her face up to look into her eyes. She wasn’t ready for the openness, the vulnerability and the yearning she found in his green eyes. It made her throat close again, she brushed his lips with her fingertips before replacing them with her lips.

A soft, full of promise kiss, he reciprocated in the same manner. An unspoken promise none of them was yet able to put into words.

They both knew something had shifted with that kiss, none mentioned.

They got up in silence, he held her hand and took her to the massive bed, that had missed all their exertions. They got into it, ended up in a similar position as the one they had shared on the floor.

Sansa fell asleep with her head on his warm chest, their legs tangled together, his arms around her, and for the first time in a very long time, contented and safe.

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and let me know what you think ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Sorry this chapter took so long, for some reason, it was hard to write.  
> You may notice this fic says now is completed, don’t panic, the story is not finished. However, and since I already have a series going on, I decided to finish this fic here and continue in a new one. I have a few reasons for this, the main one is there’ll be some sensitive issues in the near future which will imply changing the warnings and tags, plus it might be not everyone’s cup of tea, so a new fic seems better.  
> That said, I have it all planned but I haven’t written a single word, therefore it may take a couple of weeks for the new fic to start, so in case you are interested, subscribe to the series.  
> Now about this chapter.  
> One of the reasons I found this chapter hard to write was that I have a bunch of things I wanted on it, but they didn’t seem to connect. In the end, I added a new POV, I think you’ll like it.

 

* * *

 

_It was pitch black, so dark she could barely see her hands in front of her. Her chest tightened, warning her of unknown dangers hidden in the darkness. Frightened, she tried to run but couldn’t see where she was going, so she ended tripping and falling._

_When she looked up, her eyes caught sight of the thousands charred swords of the Iron Throne._

_Joffrey was sprawled on it, as far from a dignified king as it could be. His smile was cruel and mocking and she knew what that meant._

_Suddenly, dozens of hands were upon her, pulling at the ends of her dress, grabbing, scratching, and hitting her flesh. Sansa tried to scream for help, but nothing came out of her mouth, she panicked and tried again with the same result._

_She wept and whimpered frantically, tried to crawl away from the abusing hands only for Joffrey to laugh amused._

_A direwolf howled somewhere behind her and she looked up for it, creeping on the floor. She was halfway across the Throne room when a hand grabbed her hair and pulled up mercilessly. Sansa’s hands flew to her head to defend herself from the latest aggression._

_The assailant cackled angry and mirthlessly._

_Sansa recognized Cersei’s laugh while tears of pain rolled down her own face. This time she tried to beg, but again, no sound came out her throat. The Queen leant over her until her sneer was brushing Sansa’s ear._

_“You won’t take them.” Cersei hissed. “They’re mine, little dove.”_

_< <I don’t want anything.>> Sansa thought without knowing what Cersei was referring to, still unable to speak. She could only watch the Queen’s cruel eyes and heard Joffrey’s mad laugh. <<I just want to go home.>>_

_*_

Sansa’s body suddenly jerked, her heart in her throat and her eyes frantically trying to make up forms in the dark. Something heavy and warm sneaked around her waist, she jerked scared before her face and front were pressed against something firm and snug.

A steady, calming heartbeat surrounded her.

‘ _Jaime_.’ She realized, just before falling into the slumber again.

 *

_She was back at the Red Keep, it was still dark and sinister, but empty, this time. She walked through endless corridors hearing a howl she couldn’t find._

_“Lady!” She called._

_But no matter how much she walked or called, she couldn’t find the animal._

_At the end of one corridor, she found a red door. The animal could be heard through it, howling on the other side._

_She pushed it open and crossed._

_She found herself on a field covered in deep snow. Her breath formed white puffs and the snow crouched under her bare, freezing feet._

_Despite the cold, she knew it wasn’t the North._

_She spun around until she spotted the towering form of Casterly Rock, except it was covered in white and the formerly blue sea at its foot was frozen solid._

_< <Should it be this much cold so south?>> She wondered alarmed._

_There were wrecked ships frozen in the coast and what she had previously thought were rocks laying on the field, turned to be frozen corpses with their eyes opened and blue._

_Then everything became darker._

_She looked up._

_There was no sun to find. However, something cast a huge shadow over her. Something that moved, like a black cloud soaring in the sky._

_Sansa felt a presence at her side. Unwillingly, she tore her eyes away from the sky._

_It was the howling direwolf, but not the one she had been searching._

_The immaculate fur brushed her right arm, bringing tears to her eyes._

_< <Ghost.>>_

_The animal was huge, way bigger than the last time she had seen it. She extended a shaky hand to touch his back, almost at the height of her own shoulder, but before she could, Ghost lifted his massive head up to the sky and howled yearningly._

_The wondrous sound that answered him, echoed through Sansa’s bones._

_Something between a screech and a roar came from the looming figure above them, then the sky exploded with light._

 

* * *

 

Sansa opened her eyes with a jolt, her heart wildly pounding inside her chest.

She blinked repeatedly, trying to pull herself out from the remains of her dream. She wanted to think it was just an odd, preposterous dream, but it had felt to tangible for her to dismiss it so easily. Her feet were still freezing from the snow she had walked on, and she could feel the lingering touch of Ghost’s fur grazing her arm.

She sank further into the toasty, comforting presence at her ride side until her forehead touched Jaime’s shoulder.

Her head jerked surprised, she had forgotten he was there, sleeping beside her. She noticed then, the warm weight of his left arm draped over her midsection and his big hand splayed against her skin, just below her breast. She turned her head to look at him, he was sleeping face down, with his right arm under a pillow and his face facing away from her.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, her fingers itching to comb his hair. For the first time in a very long while, Sansa felt almost giddy, like the dreamy girl she had been once.

A soft knock on the door that led to her boudoir, took her out of her thoughts. Jaime stirred next to her, turning his face to her.

The door opened and Naeyah came in, stopping near the foot of the bed.

“My lady,” She curtseyed, “Ser,”

Jaime turned swiftly on his back, bewildered and eye wide at the maid’s presence. If the girl noticed, she didn’t let it show on her face, Sansa did it though. She frowned at him, perplexed by his nearly panicking state.

“There is a bath being drawn for you, my lady.” Naeyah smiled somehow suggestively. “Denn is preparing one for you Ser, in your dressing room.”

Sansa found herself flushing bright red, knowing there was no need for another bath so soon unless the servants _knew_ how strenuous their masters’ night had been.

“I… emmm…” The redhead stuttered with embarrassment.

Jaime at her right seemed to have overcome his distress and was now fixing Naeyah with a glare while trying to cover his right arm under the sheets. Sansa remembered then, she had taken off the golden hand the previous night and left it on the floor by the hearth.

“Naeyah, please check the bath is to my liking and wait for me there.” She ordered the maid who curtseyed once more and left the room.

Jaime jumped out of the bed the moment the girl left, he walked the room naked as his name day. Sansa wanted to follow him, knowing he would have trouble putting the hand on by himself, but she recalled her nightgown was ruined somewhere on the floor and there wasn’t any other garment for her to wear.

She didn’t feel brave enough to walk the room completely naked, not in broad daylight at least. She considered wrapping herself on the sheets but when she tried to picture it, she saw herself tripping and falling and making and spectacle of herself.

Finally, she noticed a white fabric at the foot of the bed. Sansa realized it was the garment she used to dry by the fire after bathing – Naeyah must have left it there. It barely reached her knees, the arms openings fell till her hips and it closed very loosely by a single tie at her waist, but it was something.

She put it on and got out of bed.

Jaime was adjusting some kind of glove, she hadn’t noticed it the night before, over his stump. He was holding the golden hand between his right arm and his side, Sansa took it and helped him put it on. She felt him studying her while she adjusted the straps, but he waited until she tied the last strap to place two fingers under her chin and forced her to lift her face up to him.

His mouth claimed hers roughly, without any hint of finesse and despite her more delicate sensibilities, she found herself answering in kind, pressing her body to his.

He bit her lower lip, pausing their heated kiss.

“A much better manner of waking up.” He breathed against her lips, a slow smile appearing on his face.

She felt her cheeks burning and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as an answer.

“I’ll better take that bath,” He took a step back before turning and walk out of the room.

Alone in the chamber, Sansa released a trembling sigh, trying to command her heart to stop pounding and her skin to stop burning.

Once she felt calmer, she walked to her boudoir.

Shella and Naeyah were whispering to each other when Sansa opened the door. They stepped apart like they’d been caught in the wrong, and the younger maid tried to hide something behind her back.

On any other occasion, Sansa would have just extended her hand to be handed whatever her handmaid was concealing from her. However, standing in front of them almost naked, she didn’t feel commanding enough for it.

“Naeyah,” She called her instead, “What is it you’re hiding there?”

“It’s nothing my lady” She tried, but she was restless, and Sansa only needed to fix her with a stare for the girl to waver a little. “It’s just a common remedy.”

“Did the Maester give it to you?” She insisted. The girl looked briefly at the other maid and was about to say something else when Shella spoke.

“I’s an old wives remedy, me lady, no need to trouble de Maester.”

“And what is it for?” Sansa questioned them. They shared another look but none of them seemed willing to talk. “I won’t ask again.”

“I’s… is moon tea, me lady.” Shella finally confessed while Naeyah handed over the small bottle.

Sansa inspected the deep yellow liquid in the bottle for a moment, before turning back her attention to her handmaids.

“Is there any reason why any of you are in need of moon tea?” She asked them.

Shella shook her head quickly, Naeyah did it too but less convinced. Sansa stared at her again until she caved in.

“It’s a precaution, my lady… in case something will happen.”

“Something… agreeable?” The redhead inquired. Naeyah nodded. “I see…but where did you get it?”

Shella looked down this time and Sansa knew she was the one who had obtained, so she arched her eyebrows for the woman to explain.

“Me grandmother taugh’ me how to prepare it, me lady.”

“I see…” Sansa answered absent-mindedly, looking at the concoction on her hand. “Naeyah, you can keep this here among the oils bottles, no one will know.”

“Thank you, my lady,” She curtseyed, took the moon tea and placed it in the cabinet.

“Shella,” Sansa addressed her other handmaid, “you can keep preparing it for anyone who might need it, with just one alteration. You’ll tell me _who_ you prepare it for.”

“Bu’ me lady,” Shella pursed her lips with an objection, “women value de _discretion_.”

“I’m very discrete.” She answered unaffected, “Now, will you help me into the bath?”

 

* * *

 

**Genna**

 

Lady Genna was standing up in the middle of her chambers, her arms stretching open while her maid fought with the lacing of her small clothes.

“Well girl, what’s the prattle in the servant’s quarters?” The lady demanded. She always rewarded her maids to keep their ears open.

“Kitchen was full o’ chatter this mornin’, my lady.” The girl – a short girl with brown mousy hair and round inquisitive eyes – answered her.

“I expected as much.” Lady Genna remarked. She lowered her arms while the maid searched for her shift. “What were they saying?”

“Most o’ it was ‘bout Ser Jaime and the northern lady’s tryst in the Great Hall.” The girl shared, helping her into her shift.

“Were they seen?” Genna inquired adjusting her sleeves.

“Non’ claimed it, my lady.” The maid crouched down to tie the lady’s shoes. “The ushers heard them, tho’.”

“And? What’s the general consensus?” The lady pressed.

The maid stood up and turned to grab a green dress with golden brocade.

“Men were praisin’ Ser Jaime’s… manliness.” The girl said avoiding her lady’s gaze.

“I doubt those were their actual words.” Lady Genna observed and the girl’s cheeks reddened. “What do they say about the Stark girl?”

“The kitchen’s servants 'ere very pleased with her, my lady.” The older woman squinted at that and she rushed to expand on it. “Seemin’ly, Lady Sansa promised them a reward ‘cause the banquet was to her likin’.”

“I see…” Genna mentioned while she mulled over how her earlier appreciation of the Stark girl seemed to be right. The girl had wits, more so than Genna had given her credit because she made a show out of being dull and empty-headed. “Any comments on her… – how did you put it? – _womanliness_?”

The maid blushed and Genna knew there must be a few coloured ones.

“Some old women 'ere… umm… they thought ladies don’t…”

“Don’t what, girl?” The lady demanded. “Out with it.”

“Find pleasure in it?” The maid offered with a timorous voice.

“It’d seem it depends on the husband.” Lady Genna objected rolling her eyes, “I doubt smallfolk are very different on that account.”

“O’ course, my lady.” The girl nodded lacing the dress.

“What else the servants said about Lady Sansa?”

“Well, the men were goin’ on about not so cold or frigid northerners.” The maid recounted.

“How original.” She yawned. “Anything else?”

“Everyone is expectin’ a babe very soon, my lady.” The girl added finishing the work on the dress.

“I bet my brother agree on that.” Genna observed, taking a seat so the girl can do her hair.

 ---*---

When Genna came down to break her fast, Dorna, her little girl and both her good daughters were already in the Great Hall. Cerenna and Myrielle came down right after her, giggling like little girls while Cerenna’s children run wild around the room.

The new Lady of the Rock took her sweet time to appear, to the point Genna thought maybe she would break her fast in her chambers. Myrielle and her sister’s snigger resumed the moment they saw Sansa, which made Genna roll her eyes with annoyance. Either she wasn’t the only one whose lady’s maid bring her the servant’s gossip, or they had heard something by themselves.

The Stark girl was dressed in a plum chiffon dress that was styled neither as the northerner nor the King’s Landing way. It was flowing and light, somehow similar to the ones Reach’s girls wore, though it had long lantern sleeves as opposed to the short ones they favoured. It had a V-neck deep enough to be alluring without being indecent, which from what she had heard was more than could be said of the future Queen.

She sat next to little Janei and tried unsuccessfully to ignore Cerenna and Myrielle giggles and Jeyne salacious and bitter comments. The girl kept blushing noticeably with every of Jeyne’s remarks. One would think that if the girl took so much pleasure of her husband taking her in such a public location, she would also be immune to some light bawdy jest at her expense, but it doesn’t seem that way.

She talked to Janei about music and how she had learnt to play the high harp a few moons ago.

Hearing her, Lady Genna realized what a disservice Catelyn Tully had done to her daughter. She had brought her up to be little more than a wallflower or a pretty prop on the arm of a lord. That might have been enough during peace times if said lord might’ve been from the Riverlands or the Reach, but it would not do as a Lady of the Rock.

Fortunately, the girl had enough sense and wit to do something about it, but she would need guidance, and as much as Lady Genna loved Jaime, she knew he hadn’t a political mind, that skill had skipped him entirely.

Give him an army and he would run it very efficiently, yet fifteen years at court had taught him nothing. He would strike without thinking on the ramifications or repercussions of his actions after it was all said and done.

Tywin won’t live forever, and Tyrion was a wild card, he loved his brother, but he also had always coveted Casterly Rock, and a man can only endure too many slights. If the future ever tips the scales between Jaime and Tyrion, he will be no match against his younger brother.

The Stark girl would have to learn to defend herself if she wished to keep her current station.

Genna had been Lady of the Rock longer than Joanna ever did, or her mother before her. She knew every nook and corner, every sworn house and merchant, every gossip and each scandal. A long time ago she tried to teach Cersei, but even as a child she had been too stubborn and arrogant to hear other opinions, and after her failed engagement to prince Rhaegar, particularly Genna’s.

Sansa Stark was a very different sort of girl, Genna mused. She could shape her, turned her into a proper Lady Lannister. Last evening, she had given a thought about skipping the royal wedding and staying here to do just that, but the fervour and vehemence of her nephew and her bride had made her reconsider it.

She would attend Joffrey’s wedding, give their passion some time to subside and after the wedding, she would come back and take residence in the Rock for some time.

 

* * *

 

**Sansa**

 

Sansa walked up to the stone balcony that overlooked the patio were the squires and guards trained.

At the moment, Brienne was the one teaching Podrick, who kept falling onto the ground again and again. Two squires observed them agape at the huge woman’s ability. Others pretended to work but kept stealing glances at Brienne that ranged between disdain and begrudge.

Since Jaime himself, had overseen a few previous training lessons and therefore, sanctioned the woman’s presence, none of the men dared to protest, but not everyone was happy with the new addition.

Jaime wasn’t there today, Sansa knew he was overseen some parchments and recent ravens, which was the reason of why she was there.

To catch Brienne alone.

Podrick bit the dust again after his eyes looked up at the balcony, sensing Sansa’s presence watching over them. The rest of the men followed his stare to catch a glance at her.

Most of them nodded respectfully at her and the small parchment hidden under her clothes burned against her skin while she fought the wistfulness the familiar scene had stirred.

She came down the stairs, acknowledged Ser Bennedict – the master-of-arms – with a nod before made a beeline towards the only other woman there.

“Would you mind walking with me, Lady Brienne?” Sansa requested her graciously but without leaving her the possibility of rejecting it.

“I’m not a—” Was the first thing the blonde tried but stopped mid-sentence when Sansa arched a perfect eyebrow to challenge her. “It’d be my pleasure, my lady.”

She left the training sword and retrieve the belt with her own weapons.

Sansa exchanged a few pleasantries while they walked out the patio and through an arched corridor until they reached a new balcony that looked directly over the sea. It was ample enough that no one could hide without being spotted but secluded enough to have a private conversation.

“You said you were sworn to my mother.” Sansa spewed without prior notice.

“I am.” Brienne admitted puzzled with the younger woman sudden outburst.

“And is that vow above your loyalty to Ser Jaime?” She pressed, lowering her voice and looking around.

“I—” The tall woman couldn’t avoid looking around too, confused by the turn of events. “I swore it on my honour, my lady.”

Sansa seized her up, trying to find any duplicity or doubt on her uncomely face and finding nothing but open honesty and confusion. The redhead nodded jerkily and looked around once again.

“Then I have a task for you.” She waited until Brienne bobbed her head to continue. “You and Jaime promised my mother to return me and my sister in exchange for his freedom,” She began. The tall woman averted her eyes and Sansa knew she could use that in case it was necessary “but you cannot return me now and Arya… I pray she is alive but is being so long…”  

She looked around one last time before her fingers dug under her dress pulling out a sealed parchment. She placed it on Brienne’s large palm and closed the woman’s fingers over it.

“My mother had lost two sons already; my sister may be dead too.” She looked at Brienne's face with a plea. “I want her to know I’m safe. Jaime can’t return me, but he... shielded me.” She hadn’t explained every ordeal she had suffered under Joffrey and Cersei on her letter, but she’d said enough. “And they have to know about Arya, wherever she is, she’s not in Joffrey’s clutches.”

Brienne eyes jumped from her hand to the young woman’s face repeatedly, trying to take it all in while noticing her looking around once again.

“You don’t want Jaime to know.” The blonde realized.

“He wouldn’t let you go.” She answered quickly, trying to regain her composure after her outburst.

Brienne knew Robb Stark could and may well apprehend her for treason if not worst, but Sansa was right, she owed at least this to Lady Catelyn. She was also right about Jaime, he wouldn’t ever let her go to meet the Starks. If captured, she could be questioned or even tortured for information on the Lannisters.

“But where should I say I’ll go?” She asked Sansa and herself. She would have to say she was going somewhere.

“To look for Arya.” The redhead supply without conviction.

“Didn’t the small council search for her already?” Brienne grimaced.

In theory, it was a fair enough cover story, Lady Catelyn had commended the safety of _both_ her daughters, but Arya Stark had disappeared almost two years ago and surely the Lannisters must have searched for her at the time, she was, after all, a very valuable hostage. If the crown hadn’t been able to find the girl, no one on their right mind would think Brienne would, after so much time.

“I think they did,” Sansa agreed, probably realizing what Brienne already had. “Couldn’t we say we found some new traces about her whereabouts?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated. Sansa took her hand again and send her a pleading stare that she found hard to resist. “I guess we could think of something.”

 

* * *

 

Five days later Sansa and Jaime watched Brienne depart closely followed by Podrick.

Sansa knew the woman had despised lying to Jaime about it, but they both knew it was the only way around it. She had been experienced an unsettling twitch of guilt herself, every time Jaime talked about Brienne or Arya, only to remember she was lying for her mother’s sake.

For her family.

She may be Lady Lannister now, but she will always be a Stark.

 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know medieval women may have worn bras? This is the kind of weird things I find when I’m “documenting.” Check Lengberg brassiere.  
> Can’t wait to know what you all think about it, leave me a comment!  
> I try to answer all of them. 😊


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